


Distance to Menae

by feenixiah (mireisen)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 37,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mireisen/pseuds/feenixiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post Mass Effect 2 but before Mass Effect 3. Chronicles Garrus' Reaper task force and his dealings with Commander Shepard while back on Palaven. Created for the Mass Effect Big Bang 2012. With illustrations by ellernock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>  

He remembered watching her from the window seat, standing there in her worn leather jacket and boots. She was lost in a sea of turian families and asari bondmates who were waving goodbye to their partners. The woman was tall for a human. She loomed over the younger turians in the crowd and definitely was taller than many of the asari, but in the mass of moving bodies she seemed small and unnoticed. She was close enough to lock eyes with him, and as the ship began to drift away from port she lightly pressed herself to the observation deck’s windows, waving meekly at him. His visor began zooming images of her on its screen, capturing her eyes and the expression on her face.

Her face was wistful. He hadn't seen this on humans too often, but all his C-Sec training and interspecies emote courses had given him a good idea that it was akin to fluttering one's mandibles. A frown, they called it. It was an expression that typically came with saying goodbyes.

He watched her as she stood there quietly. He tried to capture every color, curve, and line of her face before his visor scope shut and reset itself. The device realized that the figure in his scope of vision, the human woman, had gone out of range and out of view. She became a tiny blur of brown and red. At that moment, Garrus Vakarian sunk into his seat and sighed to himself before the windows blacked out in preparation for exiting the atmosphere. His mind had ignored the typical departure protocol announcements; fasten seat beats, watch for emergency exits, smoking prohibited. An older male turian was seated next to him and noticed Garrus' line of sight, dropping a glance at the the younger. The longing sigh from Garrus caught his attention.

"Human mate, huh?" the turian said in his direction. He was maybe half a decade older than Garrus, dressed in C-Sec uniform. He had white clan markings and dark brown plating. His mandibles were wide, and his nose bridge was narrow and long. Garrus recognized that few C-Sec agents would be present on Illium, but perhaps he was simply taking a transfer back home from the Citadel.

Garrus pulled back in surprise, "Oh, no...it's not-"

His turian neighbor raised his forefinger at him, "That was definitely a lover's sigh. And the look you’re giving me now...when will you see her again?"

Garrus eyed the black window and shook his head. "I’m not sure. If I could, I would've taken her home with me. But..."

The man's mandibles angled a bit in a smile. "That serious, huh? Waiting is always a hassle...I've got my human mate waiting for me, too."

That was certainly a surprise. It was already uncommon enough that turians would consider a lifelong bond with humans. To be seated next to one was even more of a coincidence. Garrus' brow plates shifted up, "Sir?"

"Tertius Lorinian." He nodded towards Garrus in the turian way of greeting.

The younger turian nodded back,"Garrus Vakarian."

Tertius’ hand went up to his chin. "Ah, I've heard of you."

Of course he had. After Garrus helped take down Saren Arterius, he had been showered with “welcome back” banners and congratulatory drinks back at the C-Sec headquarters. But that had been short-lived as Garrus’ pressing claims of the Reaper invasion caused him to bump heads with his superiors. Soon, C-Sec reduced his credibility to the level of a raving lunatic. Once he had gotten himself into a fight with a fellow officer, Garrus’ career in law was good as gone. Everyone in C-Sec knew about it. Garrus was expecting the worst rumors to come flying out of this turian’s mouth. “All the bad things, right?"

Tertius laughed. "Believe it or not, one of my subordinates worked in the investigations unit before switching to security. He had good things to say about you. Only bad thing he's said is that you weren’t too sharp on the politics and regulations that occasionally choke each of us at one point or another in our careers.” His arms crossed, “Pfft. Regulations. Why we can't bring our ceremonial knives with us now is anyone's guess. Soon we'd probably have to get mandatory detaloning to appease the squishier races."

Garrus smiled slightly at his unexpected response. This one wasn’t going to chastise him. In fact, it sounded like Tertius was more attuned to his view of things. Garrus shook his head, "But you must at least shave them, right? Your mate's human."

"Ah...but she's a tough human. Got her some really nice skin weave a few summers back. Doesn't pierce her skin like it used to." Tertius' voice lowered and he winked, "You know what I mean?"

Garrus let out a nervous laugh and lightly scratched his cheek. He began to warm up to this stranger over their apparent commonality. "Well...mine came equipped with heavy skin weave, had a few light scratches but nothing she would bleed over."

Tertius laughed softly in response, "Is she military? Is that why she has the skin weave?"

"Yes, sort of. Was.” He was being careful, “Or...is again. It's complicated.” Time to change the topic. “How did you meet? Not often you see humans bonded with turians...given our, you know, history and all."

"My wife was Alliance. Met her in C-Sec. She was a demolitions specialist and just transferred over to the Citadel looking for work. Most tasks set for dexterity like office work seem natural for their five-fingered hands. But...humans have the nimblest fingers in the galaxy. The way she could disassemble a device." Tertius whistled.

"Is that how it all started for you?"

The older turian made an expression between scoffing and honesty, "Can't say I found her attractive at first. Humans have such flat teeth and their hair...” he motioned to the top of his head, “and they lack a fringe. Very strange to get used to. But for the most part, we could say that most humans have the most attractive skin tones in the galaxy. Very nice."

Garrus’ mind shifted to the smooth complexion of humans, the soft glow and beautiful color. "Agreed. That they do,” Garrus smiled, his mandibles shifting, “So what changed your mind about them?"

"She worked security detail while I stood by the doors. She was patting down a young turian kid, fresh out of training who was visiting his family and piss drunk. He started cooing at her and making rude remarks about humans. She was calm, cool, but after a comment about her funny bumps and what she should do with them, with him, I mean...whatever. Point is, she was livid. Broke the boy's arm and sent him away."

Garrus shrugged, "How did that translate to her becoming your wife?"

"It didn't happen immediately, of course. You know us, we like our women strong. Her little display of force got me a little interested, so I started glossing my fringe a little more, wore more musk, even changed my gait a bit. I tried to do everything by the book. Leaned against walls and over desks, you know, sticking my ass out for her a little more than usual. To see if she’d notice my hips and such.”

Garrus responded with a hearty chuckle.

Tertius continued, “But...after two years I finally realized that their kind doesn't traditionally chase males like we do. I thought that very strange. My human partner at the time noticed. He said he was having just as much trouble attracting his own species, but noted that I had to take initiative with their females. It took me awhile to get used to...all the human stuff that I had to do. She finally took notice of me once I stuttered lines I memorized from a terrible vid."

"'Strategies for Human Affection'?"

Tertius pointed his forefinger at him, "Exactly. That vid is 20 years old. Awful...Spirits it’s so awful. I find it hard to believe that not much has changed between our species."

Garrus’ hand went back to the base of his fringe, rubbing it lightly, "I’ve tried a few suggestions from that vid. Not much luck. Humans have so many ways to attract one another. And they always say, ‘play it naturally’ or ‘be yourself’. That’s the most convoluted advice you can give in the galaxy.”

Tertius broke into a deep laughter, “Yeah, I’ve gotten that plenty of times.”

Garrus continued, “One of our salarian crewmates told me to get her alcohol. Gave her wine on our first date but she didn’t drink much of it. She kept on suggesting that it wasn’t bad, she just wanted to be clear-minded..?"

“Why’d you take a salarian’s word for it? What’d he know?”

“He seemed to know what he was talking about...”

“Did you play music for her? Humans and turians seem to share that at the very least.”

“I played a dance beat for her.”

The older turian smiled widely, “How did that go for you?”

“She...didn’t dance at all. I was a nervous mess. But I think she knew, so she turned off the music and talked.” Garrus replied, “She was just as much in the dark a s I was, but told me she didn’t need to be put in the mood like that. Just talking, she said. And...uh...She fell asleep on my shoulder even after...our little romp. That was...unexpected. Nice.”

Tertius’ mandibles flexed, “Did she really?”

Garrus let out a outward noise, “It was...Our females just want to do the deed and make us leave right after. Humans share rooms, beds even. They sleep together. It was a little different from what I imagined. Just spent the rest of our time staring at her while she slept.”

“Yeah,” Tertius rubbed his chin again, “Humans and their need for long sleep. But watching them is nice. Does she...make that cute noise when she sleeps?”

“Snoring?”

“Yeah.”

Garrus smiled, “Very loudly. Especially if she’s more tired than usual. It’s quite endearing.”

Tertius shrugged, “I don’t understand why humans don’t like it. They have all sorts of medicine and devices to stop it. Some even undergo surgery. It’s the most adorable thing. Sounds just like a sleeping baby cooing to itself in a good dream.”

Garrus continued smiling and nodded in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

The two turians conversed throughout most of their trip back home. Their discussion was mostly saturated with topics of human culture and their experiences in C-Sec. Garrus quickly found kinship with the other turian, although he kept the more deeper and personal pieces of information to himself. Garrus never uttered Shepard’s name to avoid suspicion and never ventured near his time in Omega. Tertius either didn’t notice, or had any curiosity towards Garrus’ so-called spotty past.

They both discovered that they lived close to one another, in a suburb of Cipritine, and Tertius invited Garrus over for dinner in the near future. Unlike in human culture, stating that one would “see you later” or “let’s meet up for some food or go out for coffee sometime” literally meant it in turian minds. Tertius even recommended that Garrus start sending human-styled presents to Shepard, whom he called “your human mate”, and told him that his wife would be more than happy to assist in selecting the perfect gift.

After a few hours and a long nap, the ship docked into an intergalactic space port. The ship's descent was clear of complications and the trip was otherwise ordinary. After a few intercom announcements the passengers on the ship gathered their bags and luggage to exit out and through the ship. Garrus entered the waiting bay with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was dressed in his green and blue civvies. Tertius accompanied him to the security checkpoint and before he had gone his way down the opposite end of the port, he called to Garrus, “I almost forgot to ask-how long will you be on Palaven?”

Garrus shrugged, “Not sure, got some plans though.”

Tertius nodded, “Well...I’ve got your information, you’ve got mine. We’ll talk soon.”

“Yeah.”

Tertius walked past a few corridors before he started picking up his pace. Garrus leaned back a bit, since there wer e some security gate devices obscuring his view. Tertius was running towards a little human boy, perhaps 4 years-old in age, trotting to him.

Garrus looked up, and saw a human woman trailing after. His mind went involuntarily into a thought he’d never have guessed. For a moment he imagined himself in Tertius’ shoes, and smiled to himself.

Garrus had no problem passing through the security checks, flipping open his omni-tool to prove not only his identity but his credentials for carrying various firearms and explosives. He also had been given a family visa before he had left Illium, only issued when one’s direct family was short on time or dead. He walked past the crowds of mainly turian citizens before his eyes caught the visage of a familiar figure, leaning against the walls in the typical Vakarian-cool fashion.

“About time you came home,”

Garrus shook his head, “Sorry Sol.”

It was his sister; an older female turian lacking the crest of horns of the males of her species. She bore hazel-green eyes; different from the grayish hue of her brother’s, but possessed the same strong mandibles despite lacking the distinctive prongs at its tips-a feature that only males of her species had. Her nose's hape was nearly identical to Garrus’. She was wearing a fashionable turian dress, something like a human robe adorned with little brass ornaments. She also was bearing the Vakarian clan markings from her face and stood at about the same height as her brother. Her arms uncrossed themselves and she nodded towards her younger sibling. “Let’s go home. You have to tell me what you’ve doing these past few years.”

They approached the car port. They walked briskly around corners and through concrete pillars. Turian architecture was always simple with rigid, sharp lines. Garrus walked on while breathing in the familiar scent of the city. They approached a small blue skycar, one that Garrus recognized as Solana's, and entered quietly. Solana took the driver's seat and drove down the skies of Cipritine, empty in darkness as it was late night in that section of Palaven. Bright blue-white lights blurred against the sky car’s window as Garrus rested his chin in the palm of his hand, looking out.

“Came from Illium?” Solana said while punching in a few commands in the sky car’s holographic console.

Garrus did not answer right away, drifting into a stream of private unsaid thoughts before he felt a hard pinch at his upper arm. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, using his other hand to shoo away his prodding sister. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Solana’s right hand went outstretched with her palm facing up. She shook her hand lightly and it gave Garrus a loud sigh. He rolled his eyes while he shifted in his seat, procuring a small box from his thigh pocket. As soon as the box was placed in Solana’s palm she shook it lightly for it to pop open. A delicate set of opals and white braided cords sat on a bed of velvet. She took a few seconds to look at it and her mandibles shifted up in a smile, “Good job. I’ve been needing a fashionable bracelet. What did you get mom and dad?”

Garrus crossed his arms and sunk a bit into his seat, “Dried fruit. A few quarian confectioneries.” Before Solana was able to respond with any comment Garrus beat her to it and continued, “Got Mina a little plush space auroch. And I got auntie a new download for the latest ‘Promises of Palaven’. Baro, the latest boxed set of Blasto. A few vintage weapon manuals for Uncle Lucan.”

“Well, hopefully Mom will be able to enjoy the food you got her,” Solana said flatly.

“I’m really sorry, Sol,” Garrus apologized in a softer tone.

She shook her head, “Tell that to Dad. We’ve heard what you did on the vids. Reckless. Really reckless.”

“It needed to be done,” Garrus almost shouted out defensively.

“Mm hm,” Solana responded, “Yeah. Save your explanations for Dad. I think the fact you’re alive gave him one less heart attack to worry about. Imagine if I came to the space port to pick up your corpse, or meet with your illustrious Commander Shepard with news of your death? Don’t you think about us anymore?”

“Oh spirits, Sol,” Garrus felt it coming. He buried his forehead in a palm. Here it came, the barrage of lectures while on the ride home. He had not completely ignored it, in fact he had expected it. Solana spewed words of criticism towards Garrus, words about how he had abandoned the family and shouldn’t have expected a hero’s welcome home for all that he’s done. She began harping on the fact that, when their mother had been in her lucid episodes, she had always asked where her only son was. It pained Solana to answer that no one really knew, only that he had been running all over the galaxy on his grand escapades of justice.

Garrus felt burning in his face, knots formed at his throat before Solana took on a more calm tone. Her eyes were focused on entering the Vakarian compound’s driveway. They had left the urban landscape of the city and into a suburb. Turian homes were often shared by matriarchal lineage. The husbands often moved into something like a collection or small neighborhood of homes that belonged to their wives’ and mother in-laws. What was considered the Vakarian’s compound was a collection of three large buildings. In truth, the collection of buildings was officially known as the Ilentian Abode, after their mother’s maiden name. Once Solana began to descend into their section of the compound, the garage port gates opened up. It began shining a light to guide the skycar from above, and before they exited the vehicle the engines were turned off and the siblings sat in brief silence.

“Look, Garrus,” Solana said, “I don’t enjoy telling you all this as much as you listening, but we’re all very worried for you. You’re the youngest boy, after all.”

Garrus’ mandibles were tightly pressed in.

“Now let’s go in.”

Garrus got out from the skycar, twisted rings forming at the pit of his stomach. As the garage door opened to the interior of the building, the younger male turian began stepping into through the darkness of the home, leaving his boots and duffle bag by the doorway. The floor lights lit dimly, just enough to show his way through the familiar grand room and up the stairs, where he saw a tall and age-worn figure standing at the top. Garrus found himself pinching under the atmosphere, hanging his head to avoid eye contact.

“Garrus.” The voice was familiar, even in the dark shadows of the blackened home, “Go see your mother.”

He let out a low response, barely audible noise, maybe an attempt. But it was all in vain as dragged himself past his father, going through the long hallway to his mother’s room.

Solana hadn’t stopped herself at the top of the stairs, walking past the older turian who had his arms folded. She passed him while saying stoutly, “I’m going to bed.”

The room was cold. It smelt sterile. The light was brownish in color, dimmed low to provide a warm atmosphere despite the cool temperature. Garrus found his mother’s bed, draped in beige hospice linen and with several cords and tubes of fluids hooked from patient to machine. He could see the frail female on the bed, stiffly positioned and lightly covered in a hospital gown. He had remembered her better, taller, stronger, vibrant. He might have not gotten the blessing of her hazel eyes as Solana had. But then again, he had really wished to see her eyes open now with that commanding and strong-willed expression. Something to let him know that she was alright.

But the reality had set once the only sound he heard was her labored breathing and beeping monitors. He pulled up an aged wooden chair and seated himself next to her, minding not to let the furniture scratch across the floor and setting his elbows on his knees. Her carapace had lost its sheen, it was riddled with dark crevices, showing more age than he could bear to remember. He attempted to reach out to hold her hand, fingers taped with monitoring devices and tubes extending at nearly every joint. But he saw his fingers shake and felt his mandibles tighten against his jaw.

“Mom,” his voice shook and choked under its own grief, “I’m home.”


	3. Chapter 3

Garrus had been sitting in the compound’s courtyard, a hot mug in hand and his eyes lifted to the dark Palaven sky. He had not been able to sleep atop the time discrepancy between home and Illium. The two moons were full today, shining a deep blue light against the overflowing trees. Although Cipritine was not too far from the ocean, the Vakarian compound was placed right at the edge of the waters. His nostrils filled with the familiar scent of ocean and that particular flower that smelt like her.

Not too long ago, he had discovered this scent while docked in the Cerberus Kodiak. She had been undressing from her armor using heavy tools due to a malfunction in the gravitational systems. Keeping her armor unrepaired was a matter of extreme importance. If left unchecked, it could possibly lead to her getting crushed like an insect under a book. She had removed her helmet, shaking her head to air out the accumulated sweat from her hair and neck. He had suddenly noticed the difference in smell in the air. It was a fragrant and light smell. Something akin to beach water and sweetness. Female.

Turians were a hormonal species, much like humans. Despite major differences in their biology, they were equipped with strikingly similar olfactory systems. Their sense of smell and taste were nearly identical for the most part, leading to a slew of turian-human food analogues like turian chocolate or human garum. Although quarians were the biggest fans of turian cuisine, humans followed closely after (or at least for those who were not allergic to dextro-amino acids). And since the the olfactory systems also dictated one’s perception of not only taste but smell, what generally smelt fantastic to most humans, therefore, smelt fantastic to turians.

And like humans, turians would remember scents more vividly than sounds or images. Perhaps not as much as an elcor would, but at least humans and turians shared that commonal ity. At the time, he didn’t think much of Commander Shepard’s sweet-smelling scent, but he had noticed it to be particularly feminine despite being drenched in dirt and sweat from battle. It was noticeable for the fact that, for the most part, she had been surrounded by the musky odors of males of every species except for Tali, who either smelt of sweet-smelling dew and what humans called cinnamon, or Liara, who had a mature aroma that was akin to Earth’s roses. It was strange to think that he was missing her now, and missing her for the way she smelt.

But at the moment he glanced up back to the Palaven sky and bemoaned the fact that Commander Shepard was nowhere near, not even able to stare at the sky much less the same star system. He was frowning, adding to the thoughts that he had of his ailing mother and the uncomfortable task of explaining himself to his family. The Vakarians were not very vocal individuals and tended to not pry in each other’s personal lives, but with his father’s instinct in check-Garrus was sure to brace himself for several rough interrogations.

His omni-tool beeped suddenly and he opened it to find a vid message from the Normandy’s pilot, Joker, now dressed in what looked to be human casuals and a more generic version of a head cap.

“Hey big guy,” he announced in the message, “just letting you know that Shepard is doing well. After her stint in batarian space she’s been bugged by the Alliance, so EDI’s sending this for me. We’re expecting to dock in Vancouver in a few hours. She’s taking one last tour around the galaxy before, you know, getting herself hanged by the Alliance. Just kidding, not saying to worry you. You know the Commander, she’ll probably blast herself out of jail if they threaten her enough. And I’m sure she’ll need to know where you are too.”

Joker was seated on his ultra-luxe leather seat, and his elbow was leaning on the console with his hand in his chin, “So yeah, uhm, I know you miss her and all. I’ve attached some more vids since Mordin sucked at teaching you the ropes. Oh yeah, and there’s something from Shepard too. You can thank me later.”

Garrus quickly swiped his hands over his omni-tool, pressing not once, but twice on the halo link for the attachment titled, “From ‘Shepard’”. Her image popped up, full view in front of him, dressed in what he had last seen her in; the faded Alliance Academy leather jacket and combat pants. The message must have been taken shortly after his flight home.

“Hey Garrus,” she began, “Just checking in to see if you’re doing alright. I’m fine, and you shouldn’t worry about me. I know I’ve said things like that before, but it doesn’t hurt to say it again. Joker and EDI are working together to keep in touch with everyone they can, but I guess you can tell that you’ve been given priority. I’m worried about you. I hope your father is being civil. Remember that you saved the galaxy...twice now. And my life several times over. So if he’s becoming too much, you can always take a ticket to Earth and meet me here. You can bust me out and we can fight Reapers together, you know, just like old times.”

She started laughing, nervously a bit, but trying her best to find humor in the otherwise serious situation, “I’m going to try to send you messages every chance I get, before I get put in the brig. Can’t say anything too personal since Joker’s most likely going to watch this before he sends it out. But I’m thinking about you, a lot. Stay well.”

Garrus let out a half-sigh before he heard a voice behind him.

“Commander Shepard?”

As he quickly turned from his seat he saw his sister standing nearby, who had obviously seen the last bits of the vid messages if not it all. Solana had a shocked look on her face as she read Garrus’ expression under the moonlight.

“I didn’t know she had a turian fetish.” Solana continued, “What was that all about?”

“I...” he was lost for words and his voice began to reverberate with his signature fumbling, “...uhhhh...”

Solana held her chin with her forefinger and thumb, with the other arm wrapped at her hip, “Wait a minute...or is it that my little brother has a human fetish?”

Garrus struggled, “No...it’s noth...I mean...”

“‘I’m thinking about you, a lot’,” Solana mocked, “Nothing huh? Spill it Garrus.”

His face buried itself in his hands while he shook his head. Solana took a seat next to him and made a light chuckle, “You know well enough coming home would only subject you to telling me every little dirty secret you’ve been hiding from me for the past few years. I am your big sister, after all.”

He knew it was all too true. The two had been close despite their age difference. She had literally helped take care of him once their mother had taken ill, and he had many good memories sitting on her lap pulling at her clothes and being as annoying as little brothers could be. He had been keeping things from her for too long and he owed it to her. He had confided in few before, and Solana was usually at the top of the list.

“It was gradual,” Garrus said, “Came from the right field.” Apparently in turian claw ball the right field was the equivalent to human baseball’s left.

Solana’s tone maintained its sarcasm, “Uhm hm.”

“I didn’t want to tell anyone, with all that’s going on...But I think I’ve got intentions for her. I’ve had them for awhile.”

“Intentions? How long?”

“Not exactly sure when...Dad didn’t tell you why C-Sec was about to boot me?”

Solana shrugged “I only heard that you punched out another officer. Started a physical altercation. But that was sometime ago, Garrus. I wanted to wait to hear it from you when you were ready .”

“It was Gingham. He had made some passes at Shepard back then, whenever we visited the academy during my investigation. He was...a little obsessed with her and I suppose he was just talking to me as a way to get in her pants.”

“So what? He wanted you to play matchmaker? How did this become your thing?”

Garrus stood up and began to pace around. “It wasn’t my thing. Not yet. He was an ass anyways. I never promised him anything. Shepard never batted an eye at him, though. It infuriated him. Once we finished off Saren and she was fighting in geth space, he hadn’t dropped it. Once I reapplied and started working for C-Sec again, he began aggressively asking about her. He snuck into my contacts to try to find her extranet address, where the Normandy was located and when they were due for another Citadel docking, any inkling of her. I reported him in for restraint.”

Solana didn’t respond, but her hazel eyes remained on Garrus.

Garrus sighed a bit, “Once some action was taken against him, he said something awful about Shepard. Insulting, sexual, demeaning. I couldn’t let him say it. It just...brought something up. I punched him square in the jaw, I think. I don’t know with humans, but it hurt him. That incident put my superiors off the edge. I was already pushing everyone about Kishpaugh. I just didn't have the heart to continue on.”

“Huh, so you’re saying that you started becoming attracted to your commander because someone else was attracted?”

“It wasn’t like that, Sol,” Garrus said nearly defensively, “I just...I...I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it was when we were recruited by Cerberus. I was reminded of how much I respected her. The more time I spent around her, the more I realized that human or not, she was someone I could trust with my life.”

Solana shook her head, “Just because she could cover your back in a gunfight doesn’t necessarily mean that you should jump into the same bed.”

“You disapprove?”

“No,” Solana half-laughed, “Just surprised. I just didn’t think humans were your type.”

“They aren’t, but Shepard is.”

“Which is?”

“She’s just...” he was sighing. How was he supposed to say this without sounding overly corny? He struggled. He knew Solana was able to pick out the important details for herself anyways, but Garrus was trying to figure it out just as much as she was. Vocalizing was one way to do so. “Just...everything. Strong, smart, and a hell of a good shot. I don’t have to second-guess her. She’s transparent. Doesn’t fool around with words. I’ve grown pretty sick of that with C-Sec, with the council. It was really good to have her around again. Never really noticed until she was back. She’s got this smile. And all the strange things with humans. She’s got this cute way of walking, so proud for a human but...and her hair, if you touch it, it feels like...soft, like baby down.”

Garrus looked to Solana. His mandibles tightened. “Her faith and trust in me only makes me want to live up to it. I mean, she does that with everyone, but I want to be a bigger man. She’s owned up to everything she’s done. I was humbled by that. I realized that needed to do the same. Not for her sake, but for mine too.”

“So...is she the reason why you’re back home then?”

Garrus half-smiled, painfully, “Yeah...She found our last few messages, don’t ask how, but she brought me a ticket home and forced me on the ship. Once she learned that mom was sick she wouldn’t hear of any excuses.”

Solana crossed her arms, chiding softly, “My little brother, growing up. I’m starting to like the sound of her.”

“M...maybe you’ll get to meet her someday and see what I mean. If it gets serious, I hope, maybe, I mean...” Garrus reflected, “I don’t know. I have thought of it but maybe it’s too soon. Not now. It’s not a good time. I don’t even know how it’s going on her side. I don’t want the family to worry anymore than they need to.”

“Wait...you two are not serious? What she just said...we might not be of the same species but as a female I’m fairly sure she’s quite interested in you.”

“I...” he frowned with his mandibles angled downwards, “I can’t be sure. We were exclusive, but I can’t expect her to stay with me when she’s...gone. I can’t pressure her like that.” He took a breath. “I don’t expect dad to want to hear about it either. A budding relationship with someone, no less a human, might cause dad to go overboard. And plus...there’s other pressing issues to handle.”

Garrus continued. “We’re in danger, Sol. Mom being the way she is, it’s worrying me. I want to make sure the family’s prepared. I want to make sure Palaven’s prepared. Thinking about Shepard makes me feel guilty. I should be thinking about more important things.”

Solana’s eyebrow plates shifted up, nearly laughing. “Aren’t you telling me that Shepard is important to you, right now? It’s a little surprising, I’ve never thought you’d talk about anyone like this.”

“Sol?”

His sister stood up to hold her brother’s hands in her own, “I’m happy for you, Garrus. She’s been the only person who seems to have anchored you. You’ll need something, someone good to think about during this time. Don’t worry about us. We’re all older than you. We take care of you, remember?”

Garrus nodded softly, “Yeah...”


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep came swiftly after speaking to his sister. Garrus lay in a makeshift cot in the living room, curling into a soft fleece throw. It was comfortable, unlike the bulky and large comforters that every other species seemed to favor. The windows were starting to light up from the sun outside, and his eyes fluttered open a few times in order to clear his vision from sleep. As his sight adjusted to the rising morning he beheld a uncrested turian dressed in white robes with lacy frills at its edges, holding a plush space auroch.

“Good morning Uncle Garrus!” a little voice peeped. Little three-fingered hands came to his shoulders, smoothing over them in a half-shaking matter, “My daddy’s made breakfast! Get up!”

He laughed a bit, still laying on his side, “Mina...who gave you that little space auroch?”

“Auntie Sol,” the little turian said innocently, “she said it was from you.”

Garrus sat up, smiling at her while rubbing his left eye, “What do you say when you get something nice from someone?”

“Uh...” the girl half-twirled on her heel, “Thank you!”

He patted her head, still soft with figments of gray down, “Good girl.” He began to fold his fleece throw and set the cot away in the living room closet while Mina waited. The younger turian was perhaps four to six years of age, barely in elementary school but old enough to have remembered waving goodbye to her uncle. In truth, they were second cousins. Lucan Manteris had married Garrus’ maternal aunt, Agrippina Ilentian. Their son, Baro Manteris, was briefly married before his mate signed for a dissolution, a divorce in human terms.

Mina was perhaps a few months old before the dissolution was granted. Like most other species, parental rights were questioned although turians were less likely to appeal to their own courts’ laws. Because the Vakarian household had been further up the meritocracy over Mina’s maternal side, the judge not only deemed the father fit to raise her but also to raise her solely. Such a harsh decision was common in dissolution hearings. Splitting a child to two households was extremely rare and usually looked down upon in turian culture as it translated to a divergence in clan loyalty.

But Mina, being young as she was, had no memory of her mother and would perhaps never see her. Irregardless, she had grown in a happy household with her grandmother and grandfather. “Auntie Sol” seemed to have taken in the role of mother to Mina, as she had with Garrus in his youth. And as all mothers would have done, Solana had followed and trailed behind Mina. She appeared shortly before Mina. She was freshly dressed and wearing the opal bracelet Garrus had gotten her. She approached her younger brother with a marked smile, “Good to see you up. Baro’s made puls. You should have some.”

Garrus followed the two females and walked over to the dining room, a simple and plainly dressed place, where he met the rest of the family save for his mother. His father was already seated near the window, as the table was round and had no “head” position. He was sipping a warm honey-scented beverage while pawing at his datapad for news. Agrippina and Lucan were seated near each other, both older than anyone else in the household and possessing the same dark crevices that turians developed in age. As Lucan was originally from a different clan, his markings were different from the Vakarian blue. Lucan and Baro bore deep green marks signaling their heritage to a desert colony back in turian history. Mina, being younger, was like most children her age. She was barefaced unless out in public where painting the markings on was much preferred. Even so, mostly males would keep permanent markings. Tattooing one’s carapace was considered too painful for youths, and culturally it became a coming of age ritual to have one’s markings permanent. Mina started to climbed atop Agrippina’s lap before she kindly reminded the girl that she was too old for such things.

Baro and Solana came out with warm dishes set in white porcelain, an assortment of mashed up meats and a few purple-colored plants that probably would have been considered the “greens” in levo-acidic foods. It was a customary ritual in the household to have morning and night-time meals together, but it had been years since Garrus had sat at the table.

Baro smiled at Garrus and beckoned him to stand up after placing the food down. “Come here, cousin, look at you!”

Baro was older, but also very sturdily built. For a turian, he was considered very burly, bearing full muscular thighs and a very broad chest. In most cases, turians gained weight in their upper bodies and somehow in their legs, but never in their narrow waists. His voice was deeper than anyone else’s, hands roughened from years of working labor-intensive jobs. He patted Garrus on the back and laughed, “You look good. Although half your face is missing.”

“Oh,” Garrus’ hand reached up, “Yeah, that.”

“Why is it like that?” Mina asked, and was quickly hushed by Agrippina.

“Your Uncle Garrus had an accident,” Lucan told her while meeting eyes with Garrus, “A skycar accident, you said?”

Garrus remembered that he had outwardly lied to his family as to avoid suspicion. His eyes didn’t flinch and nodded towards his family. Meanwhile, his father was swiping through the articles. “Your scars can’t be from an accident, Garrus,” he said stoutly, “Burns to one side of the face?”

Solana sat down next to Garrus, between father and son, forcing their father to set the datapad down, “No Dad, it’s too soon for you to do that investigative mojo on us. If Garrus said it was an accident, it was an accident.”

Lucan interjected, “Caius, the poor boy’s face is scarred and you could only pick at his reasons?”

“If we were being lied outright we deserve to know,” the elder Vakarian replied, “but I suppose it is for another time.” A brief silence followed before he hung his head and folded his hands over the table, “We thank the Spirits for this sustenance and our bonds with one another.”

The others followed, even little Mina, repeating, “For this sustenance and our bonds.”

The meal continued as jovially as it could. Mina was a talkative girl and was excited to narrate stories of her school activities to Garrus. Baro had proudly announced that Mina, like most in the household, had learned how to hold a sniper rifle the other day. She was also excelling at her academic work, particularly history and strategy, and was making great marks among her peers. Even at her tender age she showed promise.

Incidentally, turians were very disciplined in matters of all school. Homework was rarely assigned as it was considered the parents’ job to review the days’ lesson with their children. Turians were generally quite educated, yet their extent of education was intense and long-lived compared to humans. At fifteen, Mina would be expected to have completed what would be her elementary and middle school for humans. She would be immediately drafted into the turian military, provided that she continue her studies. During the rest of her teenaged years up until her half-mark, she would complete the equivalent of human high school to undergraduate studies. Once she turned twenty-five, she would be discharged from the turian military to pursue other public service duties, if she so wished.

On the other hand, Garrus had shown great potential, being remarkably bright in his younger days. He had completed his half-mark at twenty, five years beyond turian normalcy, and was selected for Spectre training. His father, in fear of Garrus being too immature for the responsibility and too inexperienced in general, had instead pressed him into C-Sec for his career path.

The relationship between father and son had been, for the most part, strained due to the latter’s bitterness over his father’s choices. Caius had a firm grip on Garrus’ life up until he turned twenty-five. Turians typically matured slower than humans, only “catching up” in their late twenties to thirties. During the next five years, Garrus communicated with Caius as little as possible, although such behavior was expected of turians who have left the nest. Humans, on the other hand, were expected to become independent at eighteen, nearly a decade ahead of their turian peers.

The meal had been for the most part light and full of positive stories. Lucan, although retired, had been contracted to work on some new weapon technology as he was an engineer in his younger days. Baro had gotten a promotion in his job in construction, recently completing a new business center in Cipritine’s downtown area. The females in turian culture were still expected to hold firm careers even while raising a brood. Solana had been a weapons tester for the same company that Lucan once worked for. Agrippina had retired some years ago from her life of medicine. Although humans had a cultural stigma about treating their own family, Agrippina’s main purpose now was to look after her younger sister.

After the meal, Garrus had gotten up to clear the dishes. His father had eyed him like a hawk, his gray eyes trailing after his every move. Solana and Baro saw hat Garrus had offered to help, but dismissed him to go relax. As Garrus walked through the dining room, he saw that Caius was still seated and attempted to evade him. Although older, his father was also sharper. Caius ordered Garrus to sit back down at the table for a discussion.

Garrus half-sighed, but he kept his composure as the room was cleared and the washing done. The family knew it was time for it and had an intuition when its members needed privacy. Perhaps too soon, but it wasn’t something that could’ve waited. It had been years since father and son talked in person. It was suitable, and even customary, for the Vakarian household to have vacated when the “talks” began. Oftentimes, however, the talks escalated to shouting matches.

“Your mother’s dying.” his father stated flatly, “We need to start making arrangements.”

“For Spirits’ sake,” Garrus’ mandibles pinched, “can’t you wait?”

“You know as well as I do she won’t make it much longer.” Caius nearly shouted back. “Garrus, I need you here. You can’t go off-”

“I _am_ here. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You told me to come home, remember?”

“Hm,” was his gruff response, followed by the swift sliding of the datapad towards Garrus. He looked down to see an image of Shepard accompanied by the Alliance police. Her face was stern, empty, as if she had nothing and everything to fear.

Caius folded his hands over the table, “Well...I thought you should know why I’d suspect you fleeing. Your Commander Shepard has been officially apprehended.”

Garrus’ face struggled. He was good at keeping his cool when he needed to, and his father was likely to have not noticed. Yet, his voice quavering would always give himself away. He took a light breath and said casually, “And what of it?”

“What are you hiding from me, Garrus? Why help destroy a whole star system?”

Garrus looked to Caius and locked eyes. There were a few moments of silence before he slowly moved his mouth to utter, “No skycar accident. I was on Omega, trying to make a difference.”

Caius leaned back from his seat, “I’ve already figured that out. Not too hard to trace your last transmission. So you were the turian vigilante in C-Sec armor? You could’ve have made yourself less conspicuous, ‘Archangel’. And creating such a fuss with the mercenary bands?”

“All true.”

“I assume Shepard was the one that pulled your tail out of all of that?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Again the gruff response. “So what of her? What does a turian have anything to do with saving human colonies? You could’ve thanked her and went your own way. Her arrest shouldn’t stop you to run to her like you did before.”

“It wasn’t like that, Dad. I couldn’t say no to Shepard. Once the galaxy knew she was alive...I believe in what she does. She turned herself in. She believes in honor. But she could also see through all the bullshit everyone throws her way.”

“Could she really?” Caius asked.

“Dad,” Garrus leaned towards him, “I can bet you my life a thousand times over that she will be the one to save our galaxy. We’re in danger and I don’t have much time to dabble in our past quarrels. I need to get Palaven up to speed and prepared anyway I can, even if it’s just me with a rifle in the end. If you’re willing to listen, I will talk.”

“I’m listening.”


	5. Chapter 5

The conversation between father and son lasted several hours. The men had gotten up from their seats only for quick breaks and eventually their discussion migrated to Caius’ private study. Garrus had pulled out various vid messages, extranet documents, and personal written accounts of his work in the past few years. Caius had cleared his holoboard and began to pin pieces of information. The board was flashing circles of colored indicators while Garrus talked and explained away.

Eventually their intense rapport winded down during the late afternoon, they had both come back into the sterile-smelling room of the mother Vakarian. She had not improved much and Agrippina was already there, changing her fluids and checking her temperature.

Garrus’ maternal aunt was tall for a turian, even more so for a female. Although she had shrunk a bit from her younger years, it wasn’t too hard to see where Baro got his sheer size. Agrippina was considered very beautiful for a turian. Her carapace was of a softer peach tone and her suede-like skin was of a dark brown color, the epitome of beauty for turians. Garrus had definitely gotten the dusk-colored skin tone that his mother and aunt had, but had gotten the Vakarian silver carapace. And like most species, turian females were generally smaller than their males, although Agrippina and Solana were the exception.

The sun had been gradually setting while the two males occupied the room, watching Agrippina carefully pull a few tubes and rearranging the sheets underneath her ailing loved one.

“Auntie Gippi,” Garrus said quietly, “How’s my mom?”

She looked to her nephew, her bright piercing hazel eyes shifting upon his. His aunt smoothed her hand over Garrus’ shoulder, and smiled weakly. “Little Aia was never all there, health-wise. But she is fighting still. Resting at the moment. Tomorrow the doctors will check on her. We’ll see.”

“Thank you Gippi,” Caius said softly.

“I’m almost done, you may have your time with her in a bit.” Agrippina motioned to Garrus to vacate the room, signifying that it was his father’s private moment to spend with his terminally ill wife. Garrus had been a bit fatigued from the intense discussion, but his mind was muddled with its details.

He had laid out nearly three years of his work, all concerning Shepard and the Reapers. He urged his father to listen, to provide support, and to not take him as some madman. Caius had provided little response-if nodding and holding his own chin was even considered a response. Before Garrus was able to discuss his work with Cerberus, Caius had suggested that they leave it for another day.

Garrus found himself alone for a bit sitting in the family room. Turians were often minimal in their artistic tastes. The walls were blank save for perhaps two or three family photo frames that consistently shifted images. Many of those photos dated back to when Garrus’ maternal grandparents were alive, the original owners of the Ilentian compound. He was very young when they had passed, and he remembered very little of them save for the photos.

Most of the family were away at work. Turians had a very peculiar style of working; requiring less rest than humans and often preferring to work in the mid-afternoon to late night. But only Garrus, Caius, and Agrippina were present at the moment, all minding their own personal space and leaving Garrus with some downtime.

Garrus stepped outside and began fiddling with his omni-tool, reading old messages sent to him by his Normandy crewmates and watching segments of the vids Joker sent him. In his spare time, it seemed, he could only think of her. Somehow she was plaguing his thoughts more than the imminent threat of the Reapers. Perhaps it was because the two were so intricately tied together. Without that threat, he wouldn’t have met her in the first place.

He had an idea and returned indoors to his father’s study to pick up his visor. He uploaded a few files from his visor to his omni-tool before heading back outside in a secluded corner surrounded by the garden. He began to search for little mundane pieces of information, from the first time he met her at the council fountains and then to one of their first dates.

In truth, they had gone into a bit of an unintentional courtship phase while recruiting the rest of the Normandy. Garrus had been one of the first to be present on the ship, providing Shepard a familiar face she desperately needed on a Cerberus vessel. Although she had moral support coming from Joker and Dr. Chakwas, it wasn’t the same on the battlefield. He had become, by default, her right hand man and soldier throughout most missions. She couldn’t trust anyone else to the degree she trusted Garrus.

But the courting was awkward at most times, although not forced. It was only surprising that Shepard had any romantic interest in him, but Garrus had figured it was a reaction to being so damned alone on an enemy ship. He became that shoulder for her, literally and figuratively, and was quite proud of it. He knew that Shepard was at odds with Cerberus. Years ago they had uncovered the mystery of Akuze and the brutality Cerberus was capable of inflicting on their own kind.

He found a message from her. It was before their first “date”.

_Hi Garrus. Thanks for talking to me. I’m glad you’re here._

She was always brief and to the point. The message was a reaction towards one of their more personal interactions. Shortly after his recruitment, he had caught her at the starboard observation, as it was empty and unoccupied at the moment. She was seated on the couch with elbows on her knees, hunched over. He had grown accustomed to staying to one section of the ship, but the last mission caused him to worry over Shepard’s well-being. She had been clenching her teeth and growling under her breath the moment she met face to face with their old colleague, Kaidan Alenko. She was frustrated.

But as he stepped around to face her he found her typically dry cheeks streaked with light tears. Garrus knew that humans, when upset, had the ability to leak water from their eyes. He had seen it, especially from sensitive humans, whenever they were in physical or emotional pain during his career in C-Sec. But he never took Shepard for the sensitive type.

The conversation started off slowly. At this point, they had a few light-hearted flirts and they were not considered a couple among the crew just yet, especially if the idea hadn’t fully dawned on themselves first. Shepard hadn’t gotten close enough to anyone else in terms of what had happened in the past and her personal history. She was always professional, poignant, and serious. But Garrus knew that she had a humorous side, or at least one that understood his humor. He liked drawing that out, for whatever reason, and from that she began to confide in Garrus about her deeper issues.

She used to have a deep scar on her face during their investigation on Saren and Sovereign. It began at her right eyebrow and crossed over from her nose to her left cheek. Garrus had no idea that there was any story to it. But it had been during one of her most difficult missions, dragging the bodies of her team on Akuze, that she received it. One of her subordinates was a treasured childhood friend. She had taken grievous wounds as Shepard helplessly stood over her body, waiting for their extraction. They were lucky enough to live from the thresher attacks, but so many sleepless nights and constant worry drove the surviving soldiers to madness.

This friend of hers, she said, had grown up with her. They met as children and her parents’ pull in the Alliance allowed them to be stationed together. Her parents had a strong sense of giving their only child a normal life despite the irony of it all. Firstly, Shepard was a biotic. She had otherwise been a pretty lonely child, excelling beyond her peers and further alienating herself from what was typical. This friend, she said, was the anchor to her sanity for years and perhaps the only of her age to truly accept her.

But Shepard held her friend then, trying to provide comfort to her while half her body was thrashed and missing. Shepard was morbidly proud of her, despite the gaping hole in her abdomen and her missing arm. As the night passed her breathing began to slow and gradually stop. And it was that day that Shepard swore to take down Cerberus, although at the time she had not known what they were.

Garrus understood her. Losing their squads, struggling with the failure of their mission-it was familiar. She suffered a few years of trauma and had undergone constant psychiatric treatment for it. Eventually, Shepard grew from her experience. Her approach towards the issue was not of pure vengeance, but of strained patience. She had some kind of faith that somehow, somewhere, she would have the opportunity to set things straight. But then, she was upset at the revelation that even she couldn’t deny. Kaidan said it. She was Cerberus. She was helping the very minds that slaughtered her own. She was helping the people that ruthlessly killed her friend. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Cerberus, but somehow found herself pigeonholed.

She had no one else to confide in but Garrus. Joker and Dr. Chakwas was always aligned to Shepard, but they had not quite lost their subordinates to fire like Garrus had. Kaidan reminded her of the sacrifice and the painful decision she had to make on Virmire, and even more so the internal battle against Cerberus that raged within.

“I’m frustrated, Garrus, I don’t know what I can do.” Shepard said, “I have to go on with this mission. To save humanity, to save everyone, but my hands are soiled.”

He suddenly felt one of his hands rubbing her back. It was a gesture that he naturally offered, even when he had not been completely aware of it. He had sat himself next to her, but was slightly surprised that she didn’t seem to shudder at his touch. In fact, he found himself saying something to comfort her, “Let’s think of it as not being aligned under Cerberus. I’ll send in ridiculous procurement orders. You know, 5000 packs of omni-gel, 5000 orders of ink sticks.”

Her tone lightened, “Omni-gel? Ink sticks? No one uses those anymore.”

“Exactly my point. If we plan it right we’ll burn as many credits as possible to get back at them.”

She began laughing. “You always seem to know what to say to me.”

It warmed his heart to see her smile. It was a natural reaction, much as his hand going to her back. Before he realized that this was the first time he had touched her, other than to drag each other off in battle, he replied, “Well, I’m just a smooth talker now, am I?”


	6. Chapter 6

After reviewing those few sentimental notes, Garrus returned back inside the home feeling slightly better, but still saddened by the fact that he was nowhere near Shepard. He tried to wave off thoughts of her, but talking about the Reapers had naturally come to talking about her. He was a bit of a confounded mess, but his mind was setting itself straight once he returned home because he was surrounded by his family. He crossed by the hallway before saw his father back in his study room. The elder Vakarian was standing in front of his holoboard, one arm folded and the other with its hand pinching at his chin. Garrus sat himself down in the room before his father began to talk. Caius was not turning to him and his voice was nearly grave.

“So you believe in this ‘indoctrination’?” he asked.

Garrus nodded slowly and replied, “Apparently that’s the only explanation to Saren’s madness.”

Caius grunted. “Interesting. But you’re right, there is nothing else to explain it...” He gave an inward sigh, “I’ve read reports of other instances. Lots of them. Same story. People act strangely after being exposed to supposed Reaper tech. So...what’s telling you that Shepard is not the same? Didn’t she get exposed to such things as well?”

Garrus’ voice remained steady, “The Prothean beacon isn’t Reaper tech. And I trust her, she’s made good choices.”

His father finally turned to him, “Aligning yourself to a pro-human supremacist group doesn’t seem like much of a good choice.”

“But she’s turned her back to them. It shows in how she handled herself in Batarian space.”

“True...” another inward breath, “And what’s this nonsense of physical reconstruction? What’s telling you that she’s not a VI?”

Garrus paused. He thought back to her conversation about her dead friend. Akuze. He began glazing over her narrative, explaining that there were a few details that couldn’t have possibly been fabricated, but that in the end, he had to rely solely on trust. Garrus also asked for reaffirmation long ago from the ship’s doctor, Chakwas, on her prognosis of Shepard’s “realness”. As far as the medical doctor knew, Shepard was intact and as organic as she could be considering that she had also been spaced. Shepard’s personality, in fact, seemed as normal as ever. She always had a few screws loose, and tended to make the impossible possible.

Caius still seemed unmoved, and resumed gazing over his holoboard. Various vids were playing in small windows, texts were flying across the screen. Photos, audio clips, testimonies. He stared and waved to his son, elbow pivoting, “I’m done with my questions for now.”

For nearly a week the same scenario played out. Garrus would wake up to an empty home and engage in discussions with his retired C-Sec father about the Reaper threat. Agrippina would come by to check on her sister’s vitals, and in the evening the family would gather and eat meals together in the family household. But, unfortunately, the same situation remained with Aia Ilentian. Waiting for one’s parent to pass wasn’t an easy task considering all that was happening, but Garrus found solace in his family. He spent many hours in their presence, soaking in the years he lost when he was out saving the galaxy. They were kind and hospitable, but Garrus began to feel like an outsider in his childhood home. Nothing was exactly as it was. Mina was older than he last remembered, and he began to count how many school plays he must’ve missed in his absence from the family.

But he tried. He tried to let his family know that although they were important, it would be useless if he did not focus on the task at hand. Garrus pressed on his father and Caius responded in his usual gruff manner. Eventually their conversations grew shorter. Eventually their words would limit to two or three utterances. Caius, sensing that all that needed to be said was said, announced to his son that he needed to check in on several people to pass on the information before proceeding.

On a more quiet night, Garrus had been reading a bedtime story to Mina when his omni-tool beeped. He had been at the Manteris household for some time. His sister had accompanied him to eat dinner with his relatives, but his father often refused to leave his ailing wife home alone. Garrus assumed that it must have been some message pertaining to his father’s work and making the connections needed to start some kind of response towards the reapers. He read the text.

_Garrus, come home quickly. Your mother is lucid._

The young turian got up and rushed out the door without a word, sprinting towards his old home. He passed through the hallway and found his mother still in bed, but sipping some honey-smelling hot liquid through his father’s assistance. His eyes blinked rapidly. He could not believe that someone who looked so close to the brink of death was now nearly sitting up.

“Garrus,” her voice, soft and weak, called out to him while she set her beverage down.

“Mom!” he nearly shouted, dropping to his knees and embracing her. Caius briefly glanced at the two and looked to Garrus, “This is your time with her. Try to make the most of it.”

Their son, with mandibles tightening in, nodded and watched as his father left, softly closing the door. His eyes were still on Caius’ shadow when he heard his mother’s voice again.

“You look so much older. It is strange.”

His voice lowered, soft, “Mom...”

Her hand reached out to the side of his face, brushing lightly over it, “And your scars...how much trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

Garrus found himself suddenly realizing a strange juxtaposition. Other than for medical reasons, only one other person had touched his scars, stroking them with such warmth. His brow plates shifted and he tried to keep his mandibles from flaring out. “I’ve...been saving the galaxy.”

“Ah, yes, Saren?”

Garrus gulped, “No, Mom, that was sometime ago...”

“Was it?” she laughed softly, “Of course. You look so much older.”

Why did she repeat that? Was she going back to her forgetfulness? “Well...it’s been a few years...”

“No, son, I see your age in your expression.” Her bright blue eyes were scanning him while his gaze was lowered, “What’s on your mind, exactly?”

It was a strange question to a strange moment. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say. “I’m...just trying to take everything in,” he said slowly, “A lot has happened.”

“What has happened?” She smiled softly, “Did you get yourself a bondmate? Is there some secret woman that you’ve met in C-Sec?”

The question threw him off, he didn’t understand why his mother would ask such a thing, but he felt his heart pinch. It referred to his last face-to-face conversation with his mother; at least, one that she was guaranteed to remember. For some time he had been going steady with a young lady back home. She was the perfect candidate for a wife. She had a good record in the military with a family of higher status with the Vakarians. However, his career in C-Sec made it difficult to keep close contact. Once he had jumped on the chance to take down a turian Spectre, she began to exhibit strange behavior and stopped visiting the Citadel. At one point, he had returned home, knocking on her door to find another turian answering it, half-clothed, and nearly drunk. Garrus had become mildly depressed about it afterwards, but received plenty of encouragement from his mother. And as all respectable mothers would do, she reaffirmed that Garrus was a wonderful person, soothing his ego as best as she could.

Garrus’ mind went back to the present. “Mom,” he struggled, eyes abashed, “I’m no longer in C-Sec.”

She gasped lightly in concern, her thumb rising to touch her lip, “I thought you loved that job.”

“I did. But...I found something...bigger, better,” he suddenly found himself smiling, “Commander Shepard.”

“The human? I never thought you’d take a human as a bondmate...”

Garrus’ eyes widened at the misunderstanding, “No, mom, I mean...” he held her hands in his own. They were rough, but warm. “My work. I’ve been working for her. But...maybe one day. If only you could meet her...”

He paused, looking into his mother’s eyes. They dulled and she had stopped aiming her gaze at him. She had this lost expression on her face, and for a moment had an almost fearful shock written across her visage. He wasn’t even sure if she had heard his last words. He felt immense grief in his heart, watching the blank stare of his mother and even called her out softly. But with the multiple tries and watching her sink back into whatever dark mind that imprisoned her, Garrus ceased trying.

Her bright eyes still remained stoic, unwavering, unresponsive. Her mandibles shifted slightly to mouth some word and emitted a weak sound, not even comprehensible.

His voice was choking, “If only you could meet her...”


	7. Chapter 7

Another week had passed and Garrus stood in the middle of a raining morning, walking through grassy fields before entering the crematorium. The procession was long and painful. He walked straight, steadily holding a coffin in formation with his white-gloved hands. Solana flanked him on the other side, and two other turians were behind them, Baro and Lucan. Caius led the line of mourners, dressed in black and with a black hood over his head. He held a portrait of his wife in her better years. She had been dressed in her finest clothes when she took that photo, their 40th wedding anniversary. If only she had lived to their 50th.

Caius led a long procession of family members and colleagues from his C-Sec days. A laying-to-rest band followed them with brassy-sounding instruments, playing loudly and miserably in the wake of the darkening clouds. Thunder roared and silenced several of the rattling drum beats. Little Mina had been holding Agrippina’s pant leg sobbing uncontrollably, but for turians their cries never produced the watery mess that other species did. Instead, the only way to express grief was to wail in their sobs. Perhaps the awful band that followed them was an attempt to drown the sound of weeping turians.

Garrus lowered his head, hidden in the shadows of his hood. His mandibles were tightening, tensing, hands feeling numb. He had not rested for days and felt weakness in his legs. But his back was straight. Eyes were on him. He didn’t want to disappoint his parents and especially his mother. He walked proudly with his family down to the crematorium, an underground facility with ugly gray bricks and various drawers of ashes, emblazoned with plagues and names. To think that his mother would finally rest here made him quiver. Once they had reached their destination, they lifted and placed the coffin on a metal base with a large mass of white flammable gel beads underneath. Placing the coffin on the base made a ringing sound and slowly, but surely, the wails were held down while ushers began passing out what looked to be candles to the mourners, all unlit.

Caius slowly approached a podium.

“Spirits,” his voice was strong, unwavering, “We come here today to mourn the death of our beloved, and celebrate the life that she had...”

An eulogy followed, nearly thirty minutes long. Caius maintained himself for the most part, but nearing the end his voice began shaking, his mandibles were losing its composure. Soon his hands went up to his face to cover it, a gesture that Garrus never had seen. His once strong father, unemotional, strict, and by-the-book, was in such obvious pain that he could not help but feel it in his heart as well. Garrus held an unlit candle in his hands. He started feeling the wax in his candle melting, or becoming pliable under the heat of emotions he was under and the death grip he had on it. He was struggling to not lose himself. Running up to his father to comfort him was not possible. Garrus was older now, and even as a child turians needed to maintain their dignity as long as they could. It was simply how it was done.

Caius feebly stepped from the podium to a lit candle nearby. He reached for it and Solana immediately approached him, sharing the fire before she went to Garrus. Her eyes were blank, the brightness briefly leaving its shine. Like all turian customs, there were strict guidelines to the order of lighting the candles. After Caius had passed on his fire, he was the first to throw it at the coffin, mouthing blessings. Soon after, a cascade of thrown candles hit the coffin, igniting it into a blue blaze. While its heat pressed against Garrus’ face he felt his father’s hand grip his elbow. Caius was shaking.

“You can let go, now, my so-,” his voice struggled before he gasped and began to sob uncontrollably. Garrus looked to his tall father, his face deeply marked with sadness. Garrus felt his mandibles losing its grip, flaring, and his voice joined in the loud wailing before the crackling fire.

Hours later, the congregation met on the Ilentian compound. Garrus had found himself standing next to his sister and father, nodding towards guests as they received them into their home. Like humans, it was common for turians to meet after for a meal, or at least to supply subsistence towards guests. Most voices were hushed now, after such public displays of screaming it was common for turians to lose their voices after dealing with their dead. Near the end, Garrus’ eyes lifted towards a tall turian, regal, and well-dressed. The man was accompanied by a mass of bodyguards in black and red uniforms. The figure reached out to Garrus and clasped his hands, shaking it once.

“Primarch Fedorian,” he nearly gasped.

“Garrus,” he nodded towards Caius then, “I grieve with you. But I also know we have pressing matters. We must speak soon. Now, even.”

Fedorian turned to Caius and pat him on the shoulders, “Caius, I also grieve with you. Shall we meet in your study?”

Solana glanced over to her father and brother. As Fedorian left with his entourage she told them, “I’ll handle this.” She continued to properly receive their guests, allowing the men to retreat into the house.

The study was cluttered with documents, flashing vids, and a Primarch of Palaven. He had dismissed his bodyguards outside, knowing that the Vakarians were more than a trusted clan and friendly to the Fedorian banner. He glanced over the holoboard and turned to Caius, “I read your reports. But it will not be convincing to Palaven.”

Caius had stood nearby with his arms folded while leaning on a leg, a gesture Garrus had involuntarily used from time to time. Even before the Primarch, Caius had no issue loosening up his protocol once they were beyond the scrutiny of others. “I stand by my son. You know as well that these are facts we cannot deny.”

Garrus uncomfortably stood while the two turians began discussion. They both turned to him only to ask questions for clarification. Soon, though, it was becoming ridiculous. There were excuses of logistics, disbelief, inability to truly buy into the Reaper threat. The Primarch began a shouting match with his father, and in return Garrus began shouting, too, in attempt to defend his father’s honor.

Caius began pressing hard into the topic, citing needs for unity. They were beginning to sound like crazed maniacs before Garrus slammed his fist onto a desk, “If you won’t hear to reason I will take this publicly. I won’t hesitate to leak out your denial once the Reapers arrive.”

Fedorian’s eyes shifted, then back towards Caius. After a few silent moments he laughed before placing a hand back on Caius’ shoulder, “Leave it to a Vakarian to threaten the Primarch. Alright Caius, you win. How do you propose to fix this problem?”

Caius’ hand went to his chin, “Other than defenses on our supply routes, bolster our troops...”

“Increase the effectiveness of our emergency protocols, strengthen our communication lines,” Garrus added. It was clear he had thought this through, if not hundreds of times. “Expect a massacre, Primarch. We are dealing with a force with better technology-better strategy. They exist only to destroy.”

Primarch Fedorian’s hands were rubbing his chin, he began to pace around the room. “And how do you suppose we fight these things?”

“I’ve fought them,” Garrus said. He reached for the holoboard and tapped a few times before he displayed vids of a first person view of what looked to be crates and railings. It was grainy, but obviously recorded from his visor. It was a bit difficult to make things out since the lighting was dark, but a gray-uniformed human with N7 markings on its shoulder turned its helmeted face towards Garrus. It was holding a shotgun equipped with what looked to be a makeshift bayonet, a modification most likely done on the fly. The human cocked the shotgun once while a female voice went through the intercom, “Garrus, watch my back. We’ll flank in 3...2..” The human in black armor peered from the crate’s edge and zoomed away in a flash of purple light.

Through first person view, Garrus peeked up and purple aura of flashes illuminated the dark space while the resounding beat of shotgun shots echoed through the air. It was like a fireworks show complete with the strong blasting pops of shells flying in a smooth rhythm.

A male voice shouted through the intercom under the sound of a crackling small explosion, “That'll put 'em down”. Then there were sounds of struggle and grunting, “Damn husks! Vakarian! Get these things-” The vid zoomed immediately into the image of a male human overrun with humanoid creatures, climbing atop of him. The human was desperately pummeling the monsters off of him but they were scurrying up on him like pyjaks. Zooming further in, it was clear that these creatures might have been once human, but one turned its gray head for a microsecond before the hollowed impact of a sniper bullet ripped it open. Organic matter splattered. A familiar sound began to play, a song even, masking the heavy breathing sounds and muffled shouts of commands from the others in the squad.

The Primarch’s brow plate lifted, recognizing the song as the turian anthem. But as more gray heads exploded on screen it was apparent that the sniper shots had a clear rhythm, motivation, and steadiness with the music.

Garrus scratched his cheek, a gesture of slight embarrassment, before he tapped the holoboard to freeze the screen and muted the sound. The image now displayed was of the female soldier, fists glowing with purple flames and grabbing onto the neck of one creature while shotgun shrapnel were freshly scattered midair. Fedorian squinted, realizing that the husks of people were indeed real. There was a brief silence before Fedorian spoke again, “Commander Shepard is quite impressive. I can see now why you respect her.”

“Short range is her specialty, in combination with her biotics.” Garrus replied. “Her tactics are effective with these enemies. They do not hold any guns, no projectiles. They are fast and will get on top of you. We need to up our combat strategies. Train our soldiers better in hand-to-hand.”

Caius added, “Not everyone has the biotic prowess that Commander Shepard possessed-a glowing fist to the face isn’t probable. I suggest equipping blades in our omni-tools. Make it standard issue...”

The Primarch paused, “We’ll need to assemble a special operations team for this, then. First and foremost is to prep our civilians. Second is to get our troops up to speed. Can you draft up a plan for the civilians, Caius?”

“Yes, Primarch.”

Fedorian’s mandibles pinched to one side, “Garrus, it seems that you know how to fight these things best. You will need to take up your military rank with the Empire once more and train our brothers and sisters.”

Garrus’ neck swayed back, a bit in shock, “I’m reinstated?”

“Yes, you are.” Fedorian opened his omni-tool while pressing buttons on its panel, “A special operations rank; Dux Garrus Vakarian. I will see to it that a task force is formed, send you specialists to assist you. For now, we need to keep as low key as possible. Best to not incite panic in the general public.” He began to step his way out.

Garrus’ jaw slackened, “But Primarch, telling them would further motivate our people to prepare.”

The Primarch turned to Garrus, “Put yourself in their shoes. Telling people that they need to fight for their lives in the near future isn’t exactly the best strategy.”

“Agreed,” Caius added, “And for now, the least we can do is regulate packs of medi-gel to each household before they understand why they have it in the first place. I’ll get started.”

Fedorian approached Garrus and held one of his shoulders with his hand, “Garrus, listen to your father. I know you’ve been doing all you can, and I appreciate it. I’ll send orders shortly. We’ve got work to do.”

The well-dressed Primarch left their presence quietly, joined thereafter with the laying-to-rest congregation. Garrus stared at the empty doorway before turning to his father, who was standing but looking down on a desk, busily typing out documents and opening up visual screens before him.

“One hell of a way to end a laying-to-rest ceremony,” Garrus commented.

“Yes,” Caius said without breaking his gaze towards the blinking screens, “Your mother would’ve been proud.”


	8. Chapter 8

“So you and Dad are both playing into this?” Solana was standing by the kitchen, arms folded in the Vakarian fashion. “What’s going on? And why was I the last to know?”

Garrus was leaning towards the dining table, duffel bags packed and slowly filling up with various devices and clothing. “Sol, if you can help...bring your guys together, go with Uncle Lucan-”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Caius was nearby, as was Lucan. Both men were helping Garrus pack briefs and armaments. Lucan slipped a datapad towards Solana, “We need you to test these blades. Order from the Primarch. In fact, we need all your colleagues to do the same. Suggest modifications.”

Solana lifted the datapad and rotated the pad around quizzically, “Omni-tool blades? Omni-blades?” Her pitch heightened, showing great annoyance, “What are we supposed to test these on? What, aurochs? Varren? Pyjaks? What? People?”

Garrus added flatly, “That’s the point of going. Develop weapon prototypes and a sim for those things, work with the weapons manufacturers.”

“What things? Those gray things?”

“Solana!” Caius was having enough, he grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her gently, “Listen, daughter, it is extremely important that you do this. Pack items for a week. I’ll send you word once things ease up. Go with Uncle Lucan.”

“So...” Solana shrugged, “I’m supposed to go to some conference, now?”

“To test the weapons,” Lucan gently reminded her, “Get your team together. We will work on solutions. Remember, it’s an order from the Primarch.”

Solana let out an outward sigh before she sprinted towards her room, fumbling provisions together. Garrus was packing a set of datapads tightly into a bag, finally zipping them closed and glancing over to his father, who was packing a few more pieces of digital hardware.

“She’ll be alright,” Caius told Garrus, “It’s surprising that she’s the stubborn one this time.”

For the last few days Garrus and his father had spent more time together than they had bothered to remember. They spent hours in the study, drafting plans, deferring to one another for advice. The discomfort between them for so many years began to lift away. The process wasn’t instant or immediate, but Garrus had finally begun to understand his father. Perhaps it was age. Perhaps it was the Reapers. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but there was a clear reason why he was so by-the-book. It wasn’t because of the rules, it was because he believed quite strongly that accountability was what separated the saints from the sinners.

Garrus began to see his father as someone who had been looking out for him all along. All the memories of disagreements, fights, and shouting began to lose its meaning. The amazing part that Caius had always shown his love in the best way possible, and despite the hurt he might have endured, he was forgiving for Garrus’ faults. Garrus realized that he must have been a pain to deal with. It was a trait, Caius noted, that came from their mother.

In the present, Garrus smiled lightly, “No faith in your son?”

Caius nearly chuckled, “I have faith. That stubborn attitude will come into good use soon.”

“What about the family? Auntie Gippi? Baro? Mina?”

“They’ll be alright. Life for them will go along as it had. I’ll watch over them. You are the youngest boy, after all. We’re supposed to take care of you.”

“Dad...”

Caius lit up a slight grin, it was strange to see it on him at first, but over the past few days Garrus had grown accustomed to it. “You need to go. The Primarch’s expecting you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Garrus hurried into the compound garage and jumped into his father’s skycar. The Cipritine highways had not changed at all since he was last home, and he found no problem navigating himself towards the turian Empire’s headquarters, Capitol Hill. The collection of buildings were well-known to any sensible turian. The law-making branch, judicial courts, everything that the turian civilization stood for rested deeper from the ocean shores. He had gained clearance by the security ports, parking in what looked to be an exclusive garage and heading his way up into some offices. By the end of one hallway Garrus noticed the same troupe of bodyguards he had seen during his mother’s laying-to-rest ceremony. It was evident who he’d find inside the barred office.

A grand view of the city was mirrored below them some twenty stories into the sky. The Primarch was sitting behind a desk, whisking his hands around some digital screens. He was an older turian, about Caius’ age, and held strong features that were becoming of the leader of Palaven. He held his head high even while seated. His eyes shifted up and he left his seat to approach him, “Garrus. Or shall I say Dux Vakarian?”

Garrus smiled, standing straighter and hands clasped behind his back, “Still getting used to the title-and the promotion.”

Primarch Fedorian handed him a datapad. “We needed some title to get the soldiers to see you as their superior. Well, you are, in fact. Here are your resources. I’ve opened a budget for this operation. Your assistants will be arriving later. Debrief them. Your mission is to get our home troops prepared before you head out to as many colonies as possible.” The older turian paused while he already on his way out the door, “I’ve sanctioned uniforms for you and your task force. You might want to get dressed before they come.”

“Sir?” Garrus looked to the Primarch, who nodded towards the corner. A set of lockers was nearby, all equipped with various basics. Apparently this was to be the task force headquarters.

“I need to fly out to Menae for another meeting, but we will keep in touch. So my apologies for the brief talk.” Fedorian grinned towards Garrus, “Tell your father he owes me drinks for the next century.”

He saw the Primarch head out, clearly in a hurry. His entourage of bodyguards quickly followed after the closing door. Garrus glanced back at the locker and noticed his name engraved on one section. _Dux Garrus Vakarian_. He propped it open and found a blue and gold pressed uniform, complete with boots and gloves. He began to dress himself, zipping himself up and clasping the buttons. While he dressed, his eyes trailed to the right and found five other names. _Tribunus Lorex Varo. Tribunus Roderic Axius. Tribuna Rachel Lorinian._ Garrus paused. “Rachel Lorinian” sounded human and his eyes quickly glazed over the next name. _Tribunus Tertius Lorinian._

The chances! With all the things that had happened, Garrus nearly forgot about Tertius. He had actually planned to message him shortly after his mother’s funeral, yet all the bustle of creating this task force had drained his time away. He smiled at the coincidence. Apparently Lorinian was a bigger name in the turian meritocracy than he let on.

The last name, however, read _Tribuna Amalie Endario._ His heart paused and pounded. Just when he was basking in the sheer coincidence of meeting Tertius again, he simply was in disbelief. It was like being struck by lightning three consecutive times. The only thing less likely was winning the intergalactic lottery.

Garrus had forgotten that the Primarch hand-selected this task force. Fedorian simply recruited who he must’ve felt was fit for the job. He quickly ran over to the central desk and began opening up files, debriefing himself on each operative. He was met with a walls of text and military-styled profile pictures. Lorex Varo, who scowled in his photo, was drafted as a technical specialist, creating and implementing innovations to the art of killing. He also some experience in the hastatim. Garrus’ mandibles clicked. An executioner in the task force?

Roderic Axius appeared to be the winning image of a turian citizen. His facial features were strong, but eyes extremely meek. As Garrus read on, he learned that Axius was a personal guard of the Primarch and was reinstated into the task force. He had what one would call a very illustrious battle record. He performed well in the turian military, highly noted for being a tactical genius. But unlike Garrus, Axius’ specialty was on large scale battles. While Garrus excelled at small guerrilla operations, Axius was capable of strategizing for warfare.

Rachel Lorinian had the most peculiar file. Garrus had already deduced that Rachel must've been Tertius' bondmate. As Tertius explained to him during their trip from Illium, her specialty was in demolition. Garrus thought about the strangeness of having a human in the Reaper task force. She had a very soft visage, her eyes very extremely round and large, even for a human. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, slicked back with what looked to be some kind of gel or at least it was what Garrus understood with human hair. But as Garrus read her service record, extracted from her time in the human Alliance, he found out very quickly why she was recruited; Rachel was extremely deft with her hands, as her defuse records were off the charts. Not only so, but her military aptitude scores were almost on par with Commander Shepard’s. By marriage she was considered a turian citizen, although a non-turian’s recruitment into such an operation was almost unheard of.

“I guess there is something about human females,” he quietly said to himself.

Then he went on to Tertius’ record. He read through his history and was surprised to find that he had also been part of the hastatim. Not only Tertius specialized in security measures, but he also was a interrogations expert. He was capable of drawing out pieces of vital information through reading physical cues. Perhaps it was why he was able to suddenly notice Garrus’ attachment to Shepard on their ship ride home. Not only was he well-trained in reading deception from turians, but almost every other species. Missions concerning asari, salarians, and even krogan were successful due to Tertius’ ability to draw out vital information. Yet the irony was that his cases with humans were the least exemplary.

Garrus continued on. It seemed that during Tertius’ service in the hastatim, a brief five years, he had cleaned up corrupted officials and participated in what looked to be very dirty work. Garrus thought back to his general impression of the mild-mannered turian and deduced that Tertius must have been ill-suited to executing rebels. It must be the reason why Tertius had leave of the military to join C-Sec.

Then he went into the file of Amalie Endario. The name was familiar but caused great discomfort. Her profile picture was what Garrus had feared. For a moment he had hoped that it was simply someone who shared the same name. This time, she was a little older than he had remembered. He already knew her place of birth, date of birth, and bits of her service record. She had been in the turian military since joining at 15, a definite life-long career. She engaged in countless military operations scouting and providing useful information on the enemy. But Garrus knew exactly why she was recruited. Her specialty was in hand-to-hand tactics.

“Spirits,” Garrus sighed to himself, “I didn’t think I’d have to see her again.”


	9. Chapter 9

Garrus pressed on reading even as his mind was hazy with the details of each operative. He had been scanning through reports for nearly the whole day before he heard the door shift open. “Birds of a feather flock together,” a female voice called. Apparently the human idiom applied to turians as well.

He looked up from his seat, dreading the eye-to-eye contact necessary to respond to the greeting, “Amalie.”

And there she was, already dressed in the traditional red and black turian military uniform, looking as she had for many years. She had brown suede skin and reddish brown plating. She wasn’t as tall as most turian females, but her overall body structure was strong, fit, and agile. She leaned towards one leg before she started walking closer to the desk. He remembered why the boys on the ship stared after her. She had this modelesque way of walking, feminine and confident. Age seemed to only have amplified it.

“Garrus,” her golden eyes began scanning him, “You look...fucked up.”

He struggled to maintain composure, trying to find some witty way to get back at her but finding little to say. Instead, his mouth nearly muttered, “What have you been up to?” Hell, what else could he have said? Here she was again, shredding whatever masculinity or pride he had in one measly sentence.

She leaned on the desk, her backside pressing against its edge while she picked up a datapad. Her eyes looked down, reading parts of the screen. “The usual. Scouting. Fighting.” Her eyes then shifted towards him, “Testing the reach of my subordinates.”

The last comment pricked him. It wasn’t the time to bring up the past, especially when it was so many years ago. Amalie was always a pain. They never saw eye-to-eye, especially when it came to working together. He had been impressionable as a youngster. Amalie thrived on pushing people’s buttons, and apparently Garrus had never left her scope.

“Look, Amalie,” his voice surprisingly took a smooth and calm tone, “If you’re going to talk about our past, I’d rather you keep that to yourself. I don’t want to know how many STIs you’ve gotten since we last talked.”

She grinned, her narrow mandibles closing in, “Seems like you’ve finally realized what your back is for. Other than for, you know, what we did-”

Garrus nearly growled, “I’m not going to put up with this. We’re adults. Let it go.”

It was just as bad as a summer camp, turians hooking up and causing unnecessary drama at every turn. That’s what Amalie represented to him. She was like that awkward high school photo that one would try to forget existed. Turians were like humans in that regard, fumbling in dating and sex and never really understanding much until experience and age taught them better-if they’d ever get that far. Amalie wasn’t necessarily a mistake, but a poor introduction on how to ease tension when she was anything but that.

Coming to terms with it after so many years was an uncomfortable feat. She was not an ex-girlfriend. In fact, Garrus was never too sure where they stood with one another. After their last mission he tried to keep contact with her, tried to initiate something more, but it was clear that he had his head on the wrong way. Turian females were not necessarily promiscuous, but they had the stereotype for being non-committal and finicky. In his tender age, he thought that sex meant an actual relationship. Unfortunately that idea caused him a lot of trouble in future attempts with romance. His confidence in the matter had been deflated over the years. Although his intentions with Shepard seemed to be the most promising, he still had his deeply-rooted doubts and Amalie’s presence only added to it.

Garrus’ assertive reaction caused Amalie to freeze, “Fine. But don’t blame me if I try to spice things up. But...” she gave him her signature, stunning turian smile, “it’s good to see you again.”

She was always good and bending the emotions of others. For a second Garrus thought that she was genuinely happy to see him, but there were thousands of mental and emotional blocks that prevented him from truly believing it. Maybe he was making it more than it really was. He was never too sure with Amalie. She was a frustrating mystery and at least he was able to determine that now than later.

Two more figures appeared by the doorway, with one nearly shouting, “Garrus!” It was Tertius with his arms outstretched. The older turian had come in his C-Sec uniform, just as he looked when they first met. Garrus immediately got up and approached him, shaking his hand firmly in a clasp.

Garrus was openly smiling, “Tertius. I meant to call you, but-”

Tertius held one hand up as to interrupt him. “I understand you had a lot going on. I read news of it on the extranet. I grieve with you, Garrus.”

“Thank you, Tertius.”

“Oh and,” Tertius turned to his companion; a human female in what looked to be in casuals. She wore combat pants and boots, but an old-fashioned black t-shirt. She was tiny, and probably small for a human. Garrus understood that Commander Shepard, in comparison to her own kind, was a tower of a woman. Shepard often rivaled the height of the men in her crew and stood to about Garrus’ nose. This human, it seemed, couldn’t even reach his first chest ridge.

“This is my wife, Rachel,” Tertius said with a proud ring in his voice. The small woman stepped up and nodded to Garrus. He was pleasantly surprised that Rachel had adapted to the turian way of greeting; a firm nod.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Garrus said while he turned to Amalie, who had already put down her datapad and approached them.

“Tribuna Amalie Endario,” her tone was surprisingly professional. “What shall I call you both, considering that she has taken your name?”

“Rachel is fine,” the human woman said, her voice was mousey and soft.

Garrus saw that Tertius’ eyes met with Amalie, but his reaction was neutral when they nodded to one another. At the same moment, two other people walked through the door, presumably Lorex Varo and Roderic Axius. Lorex was a lot larger than Garrus had imagined from his profile photo. The turian was massive. He was definitely larger than Baro, and intimidating to look at. His face was riddled with scars, burns, and he just looked downright ugly. Although turians were nearly on par with krogans on terms with height, Lorex seemed to be a lot more broader and muscular than the average man. His face was stoic and straight-mandibled. He nodded to Garrus, immediately recognizing him as the leader of the group.

Roderic was the same height and build as Garrus. He was also the youngest operative, second to Garrus, but had many more years serving in the turian military. The Axius family was far up the turian meritocracy, probably third in the line after the Fedorians and the Victuses. He was the prime example of a son who would make any father proud. However, once he nodded to his superior a meek voice barely spoke out, “Tribunus Roderic Axius.”

Garrus received them as he expected. He ordered them to dress in their new uniforms and debriefed about the mission statement, supplying them with smaller objectives and deadlines for each. He had not been looked to as a leader since his suicide operations with Shepard. She had chosen him to lead the fire-teams in her inability to defer to the Cerberus operatives for leadership. She simply could not trust them despite her respect for them. But before that, Garrus had led a team of vigilantes on Omega. Although this Reaper task group was smaller, presumably more professional, Garrus had his fears and insecurities that this, too, may not end well.

Garrus’ mind went briefly to the time before their suicide mission against the Collectors. As he delved deeper in the idiosyncrasies of their mission, he retreated to thoughts of Shepard and his confidence began to rise. He remembered that while standing on a ledge, overlooking the darkness and neon lights that was Omega, he and Shepard shared a private moment to themselves while their third wheel, Kasumi, was on an errand for heat sinks. They had already established interest in one another and Garrus nervously approached the topic like a trainwreck. But Shepard was always interested in alleviating his nervousness and often broached the topic whenever they could. Shepard had that kind of personality. She was always clear and concise. This time, their conversation trailed to the subject of kissing. He admitted his curiosity towards it.

“So it’s...” he started slowly, “something humans do to put themselves in the mood?”

“Yes.” Shepard turned to the landscape below them. They both were soaking in the view, leaning against the black rails. Underneath them was the gentle neon glow of flashing lights, the smells of food, shouting merchants, and people simply being people. It was in the later hours, people were going to and from, but they were far up the buildings that no one could see or hear them.

“And it usually happens in front of a...romantic view, right?” Garrus struggled.

“Uhm hmm...” Shepard said, cupping her cheek in her right palm while still staring out at the night sky.

“Yeah...” he looked down, fiddling with his hands.

An uncomfortable silence followed them. The quiet broke when Shepard moved towards him and sighed, “Damnit Garrus...”

Garrus turned to her, nearly startled. She had him with his back to the railing. _What did I do wrong?_ He wasn’t sure, he tried his best to watch all those convoluted vids. He even had a small pocketpad with jotted diagrams, lines, things to say and do. A guilty look struck his face.

Shepard was smiling, though, and she shook her head. “We have this perfectly good view here. Why aren’t you kissing me?”

Yup. He was in trouble. _Way to ruin an opportunity, Vakarian._ He found himself stuttering, “I want to-I’m just-I mean...I know you expect males to take the initiative, but-”

“But what? Then take the initiative.” Her hands grabbed his and guided them to her hips. His fingers flexed under the deep curves and he gave a bit of a light gulp. Shepard’s hands went to rest themselves on his chest. As his looked up her purple eyes locked on him, focused, and he could not help but simply notice the bright blazing hue they took from the dim lighting around them. Had he noticed them before? Her voice got softer. “Well..?”

In truth, he was slightly trembling. Garrus paused, struggling to keep composure, mandibles flaring a bit. _Keep it together, man!_ He hadn’t the slightest clue to make this right. The vids all emphasized how important it was to have the perfect first kiss, but what if he messed it up? What if the texture of his tongue grossed her out? What if she scraped herself against his teeth and bled? A million things could go wrong and-

Before he knew it, he felt Shepard’s soft warm lips pressed onto his. The feeling that followed was immense. Her hands were cupping his face, body rising to meet him. He breathed her in slowly, closing his eyes and feeling her tongue shyly coaxing him out. For all that was different between their species, he realized how much his desire for her spiked through a kiss. It felt like a bomb detonating within him. He was swimming in this cocktail of pheromones and he found that his hands were wandering on her. She tasted good. _Why did she taste so good?_

Somehow, he turned her to press her against the railing, and Shepard’s hands explored the areas around his face and her fingertips began ran into the base of his fringe. Garrus made an inwardly sound that seemed to encourage her to press her body deeper into him. She must have been studying quite a bit, because his response encouraged her to stroke his crest of horns. For a few minutes he drank her in, holding her tight before she found his hands again and guided them lower, allowing to feel the firm roundness of her-

 _Spirits, that feels..._ He already felt himself unplating and tried to move his hips away from her, partially out of surprise, partially because he wasn’t exactly sure what she’d do or say if she felt him. She seemed to have gotten the signal and pulled back, breaking the kiss. As Garrus looked to her she had this sultry smile on her face, one that he had never seen her use on anyone before. The purple hue in her eyes were eclipsed by dilating pupils. “Not bad, Vakarian,” her gaze locked on him, “Though next time you take the lead.”

He was breathing her in, still recovering. His hands were at her shoulders, brushing lightly before his mouth moved and he uttered, “Shepard...I can’t say that I’m much of a lead-”

She stroked her palm against the scarred portion of his face. “No, you are. A great one. Don’t forget that.”

 

  
  
Art by [ellernock.](http://ellernock.tumblr.com/post/33883966351/mebigbang)


	10. Chapter 10

The Reaper task force was knee-deep in discussion late into the evening. They stood by the large central desk and chattered about solutions jotting down notes on their datapads. Garrus began to formulate an overall positive impression of his subordinates. He had already known Tertius to a point, and of course Amalie. Roderic posed questions and contemplated over Garrus’ answers in a methodical, overly turian kind of way. Lorex was still very quiet and Garrus doubted if he was even listening. He bothered not to ask or make any comprehension checks because truthfully, the huge turian was scary to look at. Rachel was a bit of an enigma. Tertius had told Garrus that Rachel was able of holding her own and was able to stand up for herself. Yet, she was so soft-spoken, small, and looked deceptively defenseless.

They were on the topic of how to fight human husks when Rachel suggested to work on an upgrade for onmi-tools. “Something like a chain overload,” she noted while pointing to a frozen screen before them. “They clutter. Notice that they often come in waves and in groups whenever you bottleneck them and that they don’t seem to duck for cover.”

Garrus had his arms across his chest while biting a thumb, “That means a lot of heat sinks and thermal clips.” He thought briefly before he tapped on the main hub, sliding through screens of his recordings. “Although improving our overload will be a more cost-efficient solution, we need a plan B.”

He played a clip uploaded from his visor, one where he had been in a squad with the salarian scientist, Mordin Solus. The doctor was skillful and had evident fighting experience. The tall and lanky professor shot cyro blasts at unshielded creatures before they dissipated into snowy dust.

Roderic stared at the screen and spoke up, “So we either strip them of their shields or freeze them?”

“Both if possible,” Garrus added, “more efficient than setting them on fire. They won’t have a chance to come up at us, and it’ll buy time to strategize. If we could start on making cyro available to others...I think this is our optimal solution, unless anyone has more suggestions.”

The members of the task force eyed each other. The silence made it clear that there were no further thoughts to be said. Garrus held a hand to his forehead and half-sighed, “Let’s get started with drafts. Pull up information and contact the engineer corps.”

Garrus’ subordinates seemed to answer in union. “Understood, sir.”

The Reaper task force was not necessarily a weekly job, but most of the members were hard at work and pulling documents together up until late afternoon the next day. As turians they were accustomed to long hours of work without rest, and even their human member, Rachel, had been a seasoned officer with odd sleeping hours. Once their drafts were well on their way, the team was dismissed late, only awaiting confirmation and backlog work. Garrus returned home and gently set up his cot, lights dimmed from the absence of his father and sister. He did not bother to strip himself down and slept right in his uniform.

At an unspecified time, Garrus’ blue-green eyes flickered open. There were some morning creatures singing loudly outside, and he found himself curled at the edge of his cot. He had a really long first day, but in a few weeks he would be transported back and around Palaven meeting with the troops and other important figures in the turian empire. At this point, Garrus was accustomed to the higher turian society. His father was an officer with close ties to the Primarch, after all.

Garrus got up for some water, so he began walking over to kitchen. The dining room was lit, and there was a mess of thin transparent sheets of paper and datapads scattered on the dining table. He passed by to the water cooler and placed a glass under the dispenser. One hand went over his eyes to rub it. It was still dark, but the sun was rising. He heard a bit of a shuffle and turned, Solana was in her casual clothes, yawning. She was holding a hot mug and was going to the dispenser for some hot water. She must have been up all night, but Garrus was unaware that she had been home. She must have come from an outside break, or getting a snack, or something.

“Long day?” she asked.

Garrus shrugged. “Couldn’t have gone better. I met my colleagues, sent out a few orders, got stuff done.” He lifted his cool glass to his mouth.

“Oh yeah?” Solana bent over to get some hot water, and she talked away from Garrus, “I heard the Primarch had to get the best on it. Who’s on your team? Or is it super classified?”

“There are no restrictions. It’ll go public regardless. We’re doing a news brief in a few days so I know the drill. You’d pinch and hold me down to submission if I don’t tell you before the rest of the world.”

His elder sister held up her mug and sipped it. “You’ve got that right. So, anyone big on your team?”

“Uh...yeah...” Garrus looked to his side, “We have a human. Rachel Lorinian.”

“A Lorinian? Good family. Several generals serving right now.” The mug went down, as well as the glass of water Garrus had been drinking from. Apparently the younger turian hadn’t kept up with politics. Solana, having lived on Palaven her whole life, was up to date with the competing families up the meritocracy. Solana wasn’t exactly a socialite, but she was quite adept at keeping the Vakarian name well-known and always dressed fashionably while in public. “Is she turian by marriage?”

“No, Sol,” Garrus rolled his eyes, “she underwent interspecies-surgery.”

Solana scowled and pulled on Garrus’ crest of horns, causing him to yowl. He had almost forgotten that having a fresh mouth with his sister was always a bad idea. She released him after she heard a satisfying yelp from him. Garrus was rubbing his head when she leant against the wall and folded her arms. She took another sip of her warm drink. “Anyone else?”

“Amalie.”

Solana nearly spat out her drink, “What-who?”

“Amalie Endario.”

The female turian’s brow plates shifted, mandibles flaring out, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Yeah.” Garrus set his drink down on the table before taking a seat, “Small galaxy, huh?”

“Wow...” She was speechless, but sat back down behind the spread of data on the table. “...so how are you dealing with it?”

Garrus shrugged. “I’ll manage. She’s still the same. Annoying. Selfish. Hard to read.”

Solana sighed, “She’s the reason why us turian ladies are doomed to celibacy if we go off-world. And what about Shepard?”

“What about her?”

“Does she know about her?”

Garrus set his elbows on the table and folded his hands. “Funny story. We started off because I told her about Amalie. No details, of course.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Heh, I wish. I mentioned Amalie in passing and Shepard proposed we give it a shot. ‘Easing tension’-her exact words. At first I thought it was a some joke, but she was serious.”

“Wait...so you’re telling me,” one of Solana’s brow plates cocked up, “Commander Shepard asked you to sleep with her after you talked about your...thing with some reconnaissance scout?”

Garrus laughed, “Yeah.”

Solana’s face twisted. It was something between surprise and disbelief. “Humans are weird. But...” she picked up a datapad to start scrolling through some testing numbers, “Speaking of the commander, have you heard from her again?”

Garrus’ mandibles tightened and he shook his head. In fact, he hadn’t heard from Shepard for nearly a month now. Joker hadn’t sent him any word, not even a funny message or a hello. The Alliance must’ve gotten a good hold on them.

“Are you going to be okay? With Amalie being around, I mean.” Solana’s hazel eyes were focused on the datapad.

“If you’re asking if I’d cheat on Shepard, you’re out of your damned mind. But...” He sighed and his eyes shifted down, “I’m not even sure where we stand with one another. With all of these things happening. Mom passing away, the Reapers, I really don’t know.”

Solana placed her datapad down and folded her arms, “Just when you should be hoping for the best, your pessimistic nature comes at its worst.”

Garrus looked up, “What should I be hoping for, exactly?”

“What’s wrong with a little ‘happily ever after’?”

“That’s unrealistic, Sol.”

“So what? Infiltrating the Collector Base and blowing it up wasn’t? What’s a turian-human couple to that?”

“Point taken.”

“‘And you deserve a little happiness.” Solana reached out and began to rub one of her little brother’s shoulders, “I’ve always thought you did stupid things, but Dad did that when he was young, too. At least, that’s what Uncle Lucan would tell me.”

“Thanks Sol...”

“You owe me ice cream.”


	11. Chapter 11

After a few minutes, Garrus left his sister’s company as she busily worked on accumulating data for her research. He decided to take a stroll outside and take refuge under the shade of the mature trees surrounding the edge of the compound. His father had set up a hammock of sorts many years ago, and although it was torn from years of use. Garrus remembered being read stories in that hammock with his mother.

He carefully placed himself back in the hammock and swung gently with one leg propped up and the other still by the floor, toes slightly swaying to and fro. He had his datapad in his hands, spinning and reeling through newscasts and various information on the status of the galaxy. It seemed that Reapers were the last thing on people’s minds, and the big expose on the day’s newscasts was on Asari mercenaries red-lighting as prostitutes.

He found a few messages from the various contacts he had made when accessing the Empire’s database. There was an array of confirmation of orders, research and development memos, and a few friendly personal contacts from former colleagues in the turian military. One of his superiors from his service had written him back and congratulated him on his new promotion.

Garrus found himself smiling and then drifting back into old memories. His sleep schedule had been wrecked and soon enough, sleep took hold of him again and he reimagined a memory of a moment not too long ago. He had joined Tali’Zorah vas Normandy (newly titled) for resupplying errands on the Citadel, particularly for dextro-friendly supplies.

The quarian was outfitted in her signature violet suit. They were at a kiosk punching in orders before Garrus reached over her shoulder, trying to maneuver around her, “Tali. Get that bottle of wine.”

Her head shifted back. “What? But it’s not even for dextros.”

“It’s-uh, going to be a present.”

Tali’s head remained turned to him, but her face was concealed by the fog of her helmet. It was clear that she was pausing in disbelief before her mouthpiece lit up. “For who?”

Garrus sighed, “Spirits you’re acting like my sister. For someone.” He tried to reach around the quarian girl. Her helmet lights flickered with laughter.

“You mean someone special?” Tali teased.

“Yeah-no-I mean, damnit.”

“Commander Shepard?”

Garrus paused, “How’d you figure?”

“Oh please, Vakarian. I’ve lived on ships all my life. Gossip is a favorite past time for most quarians.” She laughed. “You shouldn’t pick that one anyways. There’s a line of levo-dextro friendly wine that you could both enjoy.” Her three fingers were shifting through the queue, “Yes, this one.”

“It’s 5000 creds,” Garrus murmured.

Tali’s voice pitched up, “So you’re saying you wouldn’t spend that on Shepard?”

“Wait-it matters how much I spend?”

“You don’t want to look cheap, do you?”

In truth, he wanted to impress Shepard. He had read several articles about appropriate things to give to humans. He found it peculiar that flowers were on the list of things to do when romancing a human. Garrus was curious and wanted to know more, but refrained from opening the topic up in conversations. It was slightly embarrassing because he was so damned inexperienced and wasn’t exactly sure how Shepard would take it if he had bragged about their plans. Tali’s knowledge of the matter surprised him. He wasn’t sure why she’d know anything about human courtship. He looked to Tali. “Quarians value expensive gifts?”

Tali’s response had a bit of light offense, “Wow. That wasn’t the least bit racist.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared. He nearly stammered. “S-Sorry. I mean...I just didn’t think you’d know what humans would like.”

“Just because I’m quarian doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the finer things in life,” Tali folded her arms. “Besides, human or not, Shepard’s a _woman_. All women love thoughtful gestures.”

“And getting her alcohol is a thoughtful gesture?”

“Not just any alcohol. Classy and practical. You don’t want her drinking this by herself, do you?”

The thought passed his mind. Tali was right. It would’ve been more awkward to have one party drinking this wine while he watched. As far as he understood, humans loved sharing meals and drinking with others. Shepard would probably like the idea of sharing a drink with him. In fact, whenever they passed by the bar she would offer drinks to her squadmates. After the first round of shots it was obvious that alcohol was her way of loosening up. Once she stepped onto the Normandy it seemed that all she could be was straight-laced and stiff. It always pleased Garrus to see her laughing and joking more, even if under the influence.

Garrus glanced at the kiosk before pulling out his chit card, “Yeah. I think I’ll take it then. Thanks, Tali.”

“No problem, Vakarian.” Tali raised her forefinger at him and poked him on the shoulder, “Make sure you give her a good time. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

Tali laughed. “My shotgun."

Garrus suddenly woke up to the darkened black sky, breaking the memory short. It seemed as if he had slept off most of the day and immediately turned in the hammock, finding the datapad face down on the ground. He picked it up and saw various flashing lights and messages. After skimming through bits of vid mail subjects his eyes widened at another ‘Shepard’ line. Garrus sat to the side of the hammock, hunched over the datapad and feet firmly on the ground. Hurriedly he opened the message. It was a simple 2-dimensional video. Most likely she didn’t have the resources now to record a full projection.

Shepard’s hair was longer, just a bit. He knew this because the roots of her hair were growing out brown. She told him that she colored her hair, as opposed to the natural brunette that she was. He didn’t understand the significance of telling him until the time she stood naked before him. In a pretty embarrassing, but enlightening, moment he realized why she freely told him. It was to quell any further curiosity on why her certain “features” didn’t match.

But she was before him now, dressed in what looked to be regulation Alliance uniform. Her eyes were downcast and she started to speak.

“Hello Garrus. Thought I’d send you a message before I go silent. I meant to send more, but,” her lips tightened at its ends, “You know. This probably went through a few hands before it got to you, but I hope you’re doing well. I heard about your mother. I’m really sorry for your loss. I grieve with you.”

Her eyes were downcast, “I’ve kept contact with most of the old Normandy but the Alliance is only allowing inbox messages. I can’t really send anything out after this. I can’t talk for too long, but I wanted to let you know...”

Garrus held his breath.

“Look, Garrus, a lot will happen once the Reapers are here. I’m not expecting anything from you. We’re both realists. Things will go badly. I just wanted to let you know...that it has nothing to do with you, or me. The galaxy might go to hell and we can’t make promises on something so unpredictable. I remember what you said, about promises, and I don’t mean to hurt you, I never mean that, but...”

Garrus’s throat tightened. Was she breaking up with him? What was it that she was trying to say, exactly? In all his years of knowing her, Shepard was the last person he’d expect to beat around the bush. But her clarity came soon. Her eyes watered a bit, but she seemed to remain complete composure.

Her voice was flat, “I won’t hate you if you can’t keep your promise. Goodbye, Garrus.”

The vid message blacked out soon after, and Garrus sat in his hammock stunned. Her last few words echoed in his mind. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but his mandibles tightened. He understood it well enough. She was just stating the inevitable. Things will go badly. She wanted him to keep focused, and not be a distraction. But in her concern for him, Garrus realized that she was right as well.

He looked up the vid message’s address and recorded several attempts to a response, but quickly found difficulty tracing the origin of the message. He decided to try expressing himself anyways, but kept on deleting multiple drafts. Soon, once the sun was rising, he realized that he had to let it go. It was time to go back to the task force headquarters.


	12. Chapter 12

Thankfully, Garrus had been given several sets of his task force uniform, and changed into another set after running through the shower. He collected a few supplies into his shoulder bag before he jumped into his father’s skycar. Driving through the empty and sleepy streets, he daydreamt about the cool shores and sandy beaches near Cipritine. He had spent many seasons there looking out to the sunrise and breathing in the fresh breeze. The scent, again, reminded him of his commander.

His mind was plagued with thoughts of Shepard’s last correspondence to him. Yet, some sort of unfounded confidence rose in his spirit and although he was not exactly sure how to word it, he committed to replying to her. He fiddled with the thought of sending her some kind of gift from his homeworld alongside a thoughtful message. Although Shepard was truthful in her words, it was clear that she still thought of him.

Garrus parked his skycar in the appropriate lot before entering the heavily secured building. As he walked past the digital checkpoints he was occasionally greeted by other military personnel. They recognized his uniform, and paused to salute. It seemed as every turian soldier had gotten the memo. The Reaper task force, or the Tribunal as they called it, was in full effect.

He entered an empty room with consoles left open. A few external drives and devices were hooked to the main screen, indicating that other operatives have checked in at various times. The lights were still dim and the sun was barely hitting the horizon. Garrus opened a few messages and viewed his agenda. _Newscast Meeting 900 Hours. Fire Test 1200 Hours._

While preparing more reports and other intricate details of his own operations, the other operatives entered the room shortly after Garrus. The Lorinians and Lorex Varo were modifying rifles together before their scheduled run at the firing range. Roderic Axius, the youngest turian of the group, slowly came to the central console where Garrus had been seated. He used his fingers to push a datapad towards Garrus’ direction. Amalie Endario followed suit and stood by him while he prompted Garrus’ attention.

“What’s this?” Garrus said, turning in his seat.

“Logistics. Troop availability, scheduled debriefings.” Roderic looked to Amalie briefly before she spoke.

Despite her history with Garrus, Amalie was capable of being civil when needed. Her voice was well-mannered. “The overload upgrades were approved. We’ve started on preliminary strategies. However,” she paused, “we’re having trouble.”

Garrus’ hand cupped a mandible while his eyes scanned the numbers and various pieces of information on the datapad. “What of it?”

Roderic hung his head slightly. “Endario’s hand-to-hand scores are one of the best in our military. Although I possess the necessary skills, we believe that you’d be a better match to develop close combat strategies.”

It wasn’t the time for personal feelings, and Garrus was sure not to show it. There was truth in Roderic’s suggestion, although he tried to wave it off. “What do you mean? Wouldn’t Varo just be as suitable?”

“With all due respect, sir,” Amalie kept a professional tone, “both Axius and Varo would be great candidates, but the only other operative with comparable skills would be yourself.”

“Hm.” Garrus scanned back to the agenda. The only open slot that would meet deadlines would be during fire testing. Garrus didn’t delve much into the thought of testing Amalie’s flexibility any more than he already had. “We’ll come up with something during the fire test,” he closed out one of the screens before getting up from his seat, “We need to prep for the newscast.”

The two responded in unison, “Understood, sir.”

It was simply a task, Garrus thought. After their first and only night together, he never had the opportunity or moment to get up close and personal with Amalie. Although he was not completely aware of what a fling was, Amalie surely saw Garrus as a kind of short-term release before their high-risk operations. In all earnestness she was considered incredibly attractive by turian standards. Her waist was tight and narrow, wasp-like, and her plates were luminous and naturally had the perfect gloss. Amalie was the model picture of turian health and she bore the traits that her species considered beautiful. Garrus, like many, assumed that someone as stunning as herself wouldn’t give him the time of day. It wasn’t that Garrus was ugly. He too was considered attractive, if only ruggedly so. But Amalie was a rare sort. She was not only a capable soldier, she was what humans would term “out of his league”, and Garrus had learned that the hard way.

In a few moments, the news crew entered the building as scheduled, setting up interview questions and cameras within the headquarters. They were a professional sort, all dressed in the same uniform and a brightly colored vests which were traditional for turian reporters to wear. The biggest kind of news for turians would be war news. And given their long and illustrious history with military might, it was common for reporters to be dressed in brightly-colored garments in order to avoid friendly fire. Over time, it became a hardwired tradition even if the reports were cast in friendly environments. Garrus hadn’t seen much of these outfits outside of Palaven, though.

The rest of the task force stood in front of the cameras, taking turns to introduce themselves in a professional manner. Of course, the main interview was reserved for Garrus. He came to the front of the main console with his hands folded behind him while the turian reporter scanned through his omni-tool for interview questions. The camera drone began blinking lights, counting down. A bright white beam was cast on Garrus’ face. The reporter went through several basic questions pertaining the mission statement of the Tribunal, its inception, and various other questions that were not answered through the other operatives. The interview was winding down, or so Garrus thought, before it took a drastic turn.

The reporter was a younger turian, probably straight out of military service. He was extremely learned and punctual in his speech. He shifted his visor up and asked Garrus, “What’s your take on Commander’s Shepard’s incarceration?”

Garrus took a split second before he shook his head, “The Alliance shouldn’t debate whether or not she should be punished, they should spend their resources preparing to fight the enemy.”

“As far as the public knows, the ‘enemy’ is an ancient race of harvesting ships. It’s quite hard to believe. A radical pro-human group, one that you’ve also worked for, is responsible for the majority of the research into the matter. Our people’s history with Cerberus is not one of friendliness. Would you not say that Shepard’s allegiance is questionable, as well as your own?”

“No,” Garrus responded flatly, “Shepard is a trustworthy individual. It is why I follow her lead without question. Whichever banner she holds is not the point-her aim was always to help the galaxy.”

“You mean humanity?”

“Shepard has worked with other species to achieve the same goal: to protect and serve. And I share that goal with her, and have for several years."

There was a light pause. The reporter cleared his throat softly before stating, “Well, there have been reports from our insiders on Illium that you might possibly share more than that with the Commander.”

Garrus’ mandibles clicked tightly in before he straightened himself before the camera. “Please clarify.”

The reporter seemed well-intentioned and his tone was civil. “We have obtained receipts of a shared hotel room under your name, yet security cameras have shown your commander entering and exiting that said room with you.”

Garrus had to think quickly. If he lost credibility to the turian public, it would be a disaster. The implications were serious, if not damning. The older generations of turians would be appalled with the thought of physical intimacy with a human. Even the thought of sharing a bed would be worse, especially since turians did not practice that custom and some thought it disgusting. His throat tightened although his mind went blank. “I would need more clarification.”

The reporter was stuck in his words, he scratched his cheek, “Well, uh, Dux Vakarian..I mean to ask if you are in a courtship with the Commander.”

He knew his answer would be possibly broadcasted to the whole turian sphere of the galaxy. It would surely change the support of the Primarch, even shame his family, if he gave an unsatisfactory answer. Luckily, when turians omitted information from the public, it was in the sense that the answer was unclear. On the other hand, when a human omitted information, it would further their curiosity.

“I could neither confirm or deny that,” Garrus replied. In fact, he was truthful. Shepard’s last message had left their relationship in a questionable state. Yet, he also was aware that Shepard needed galactic support and wouldn’t dare smear her name. He took in a breath, “But what I could say is that I highly respect Commander Shepard and admire her immensely.”

“What is it about this _human_ that you admire so much?”

“The fact that she is a human is an afterthought for me,” Garrus began selecting adjectives in his mind, “Commander Shepard has many qualities that people of all species can appreciate. She is a skilled officer. Brilliant, strong, tenacious.” He smiled, “She’s also headstrong. Literally.”

The reporter shared a light laugh. “We have all seen vids of her headbutting krogans. So would you say that Commander Shepard is more like us than previously thought?”

“I believe that her strict military upbringing makes it easier for us to relate to her.” Garrus’ eyes shifted up in mild thought. “She has a strong sense of responsibility and accountability, hence why she is on Earth now. Although we are expected to own up to our mistakes without question, Commander Shepard has done so out of her free will.”

“I see...” The reporter smiled, “Although we’ve talked much about the Tribunal, many of our viewers are quite interested in Shepard. I’d hate to take away from the focus of the Tribunal, but you are the closest account we have.”

Garurs held up a hand, “It’s really no problem. Like I’ve mentioned, we share the same goals. Whatever it takes to bolster our troops.”

“I’m glad to hear that!” The reporter was clearly pleased. “A Shepard fan, Maximus from Trinita, writes, ‘How does Commander Shepard keep her private quarters?’”

The question was far from odd for turians. The way one kept their private quarters was a turian’s version of a star sign mixed with feng shui. Culturally, asking how one kept their private quarters, as females and males kept separate rooms, was a way to gain insight to one’s personality and psyche.

Garrus grinned, “The creases on her bed are straight and crisp. She keeps an aquarium stocked with fish from all over the galaxy. She balances that out with a pet hamster, seated near some data disks and on a shelf.”

The reporter nodded.

“She keeps a very low light, at all times, and plays ambient soft music when she’s in a good mood,” Garrus continued, “She stocks her ammunitions underneath her bed. Mainly shotgun shells, but the occasional sniper rifle. She also collects and maintains model ships.”

“How very turian of her!” the reporter nearly exclaimed.

“She has a few rare models that she put together in her spare time. Including,” Garrus announced proudly, “The Shadow Broker’s ship.”

Ther reporter’s face beamed. Garrus’ answers provoked a happy and enthusiastic response. “Imagine that! I’m sure our audience is grateful for your response.” It was clear that despite the question of courtship, Garrus had successfully diverted away from any bad press on himself and Shepard. He was secretly thankful for Maxiumus. Without his diverting question, the report would’ve focused more on Garrus’ personal dealings with his commander.

The interview wrapped up shortly after and the newscast promptly cleared out. It seemed like a successful interview, although mention of the Reapers were taboo and they were encouraged to simply say, “the threat” in its place. The whole galaxy was still asleep on the Reaper issue. If anything, Palaven wasn’t too serious about the Tribunal. Many saw it as an auxiliary unit, which it actually was, that would help the turian military regardless of a true threat or not.

Shortly after the news crew left, the task force began packing and heading their way down to a firing range nearby. Such places were commonplace on Palaven. It seemed as if every office had their own designated firing range, and Cipritine was full of them. A few guns were locked and modded away in the earlier hours and Rachel Lorinian was first out the door. It was quite a sight to see a little human woman carrying an overwhelming amount of ammunition. Her sniper rifle, a Widow X model, had a barrel that was as nearly as tall as she was.

Garrus was one of the last to leave. As he closed out the main console he looked back to the noon view from the windows. The city skyline was bustling with vehicles, the sun was in full view and the kinetic barriers cast a light purple hue onto the city. Garrus turned, grabbing his rifle and heading down with his subordinates to test a few shots.


	13. Chapter 13

“One more time, Vakarian.” Amalie was doubled over. Her hands were on her knees, bandaged at each joint to prevent sprains.

“You sure you really want to keep going?” Garrus said in between breaths. He felt heat at the back of his neck.

“You’re the only one who can wear me down.” She grinned, grabbing hold of his shoulder and shifting her weight to push him down. “Besides,” she continued, “not often that you get to roleplay a Reaper husk.” But Garrus took hold of the floor, his knee bending and projecting force back up, twisting with the female turian and slamming her back onto the ground. He felt a few good punches slip against the scarred side of his face, but the injuries left him with an advantageous numbness.

It was near the end of their fire test, and the operatives had gathered to the sparring mat. Garrus had allowed them refreshments and they took a bit of a break with a side of entertainment. It wasn’t everyday that one could watch two of the best hand-to-hand combatants in the turian military duke it out.

Garrus was mildly surprised at Amalie’s to-the-point demeanor throughout the spar. In the past she would have used the bodily contact with sexual remarks, or at least words that’d take him off focus. With such a beautiful partner, it would’ve been easy for anyone else to get distracted along with her incessant flirting. Perhaps she was happier sparring with Garrus because he was the only man who’d take her seriously.

Amalie reached around Garrus’ cowl and pretty much jumped on him like a pyjak. She had learned this maneuver from watching the various vids on husks, and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. For a brief moment, while Garrus ran his hands up her thighs to grab her, he was reminded of their first and only night together.

The thought caught him off guard, if not troubled him. In the past, Garrus was a mumbling mess and Amalie, being the more experienced partner by far, led him through with encouraging and ego-stroking compliments. He started remembering her rough, wanting touches and the way her golden eyes would reflect light in darkness.

Snapping back to the present, Garrus stumbled. He was an ungraceful mess, landing below Amalie and causing her to be perfectly straddled on top of him. Garrus’ cheeks were hot and he regained composure, shifting back up and lifting her away, rotating his hips before he slammed her down with her back on the floor.

Amalie’s hands were outstretched over her and she was panting before a grin crossed her face. “Not bad, Vakarian.” She winked.

She used the same last compliment when they finished their bedroom romp years ago. Garrus responded mutely, his uneven breathing taking most of his energy and thoughts. He wiped his forehead with a hand, with the other on a knee. “Draft up a report. Let’s return to the office in two. Shower, grab a bite to eat.” He then left.

Garrus went towards the showers and was joined by his male counterparts. Varo and Axius had typically kept to themselves and Garrus had chosen a corner stall. Tertius comfortably made his way to the stall next to him. Nakedness wasn’t too much of an issue to turians, given that they were used to being seen naked especially during military training. Like humans, however, separate sex showering facilities were encouraged. It would’ve eliminated the curiosity the rest of the squad might’ve felt if they saw Rachel Lorinian in the nude. Although Garrus had seen breasts on Shepard, he wasn’t sure if it would’ve been alright to look at another human’s. He learned that staring at them was a rude gesture.

Garrus set the water to freezing on himself and his mind was plagued with the thoughts of grabbing Amalie and feeling her weight shift on him. He was replaying faded moments in his memory. It was a youthful, naive time. She still had that familiar, intoxicating, lovely scent. And the ways she always looked to him, always wanting, always hungry. Garrus shook his head vehemently. It wasn’t right. What was it about her that made men squeal and want her more? He hated thinking about her.

He muffled his face into the stream of water, trying to redirect his thoughts before he heard Tertius speak.

“You need to watch out,” Tertius said flatly.

Garrus turned to him, “Tertius?”

“Endario knows how to play the game, so all this behavior is her way to establish herself. She’s damn resourceful. Clever. Clearly knows what she wants.”

Garrus sighed and turned back. He said nothing.

Tertius’ bright green eyes steadied themselves on Garrus, focusing more on his face than anything else. “What happened? Between you two, I mean.”

Garrus was slightly surprised. “What do you mean by that?”

“You both worked together before. That much is clear. But I just want to affirm my suspicions that you might have had some rendezvous with her.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared, he glanced down before meeting Tertius’ gaze again. Damn him and his perception. “We slept together. Once. We were kids.”

“So all of that display back there must’ve been really uncomfortable for you.”

Garrus was silent, he wasn’t too sure what to make of it. “I don’t know. I don’t quite care for whatever she does. But I think what she did was set me up for failure.”

“So that’s what she represents to you?”

“No, not exactly, I mean-how did you pick up on this, anyhow?”

A puff of air came out Tertius’ nostrils, something between a laugh and a snort. “You’re not too hard to read, Vakarian. Well for me, at least.”

His shower was almost done, but he stood away from the mist for a bit. Garrus stood there quietly before Tertius continued.

“You’re not hiding your relationship with Commander Shepard too well, either.”

“Could anyone tell?” Garrus was slightly concerned.

“No,” Tertius was smiling, “Besides, I had the advantage of seeing her in person back there on Illium. Not too difficult to put two and two together.”

The conversation took an awkward turn. Relationships and showers didn’t seem like an appropriate combination, so Garrus responded with a low hum before he stepped away, activating the dry cycle before stepping back in. Tertius continued talking to him while the gentle buzz of air dried them.

“So how serious are you with the commander? Have you thought about taking her into your clan?”

Garrus frowned, “Maybe if things were a little different...But I’m not even sure if she feels the same way about me. We haven’t talked since-”

Tertius interjected, “By things being a ‘little different’, you’re talking about the Reapers? So you’re basing your feelings on circumstances?”

“No-I mean.” The conversation felt alien to Garrus. This was the kind of topic he’d have with his mother or his sister. Rarely would he speak about it to a man, but Tertius seemed to know what he was talking about. Garrus spoke while he slipped into his casuals. “If we didn’t have this whole Reaper threat looming over us, perhaps I would’ve taken her home by now. Have her pledged into my clan, maybe start a family.”

One of Tertius’ eyebrow plates cocked after pulling his shirt on. “If I recall correctly, you two started a working relationship because of the Reapers. Without them, you wouldn’t have met.”

Garrus nodded. “I know, but, if we met someplace else, or somewhere else, perhaps it wouldn’t seem so damned doomed. This is adding to the fact that she’s human...You saw where that newscast was going-Palaven’s not ready to hear it.”

The older turian folded his arms. “So you suppose I have it easier? You should’ve seen how Rachel’s parents reacted. Her father’s a veteran of the Relay 314 Incident, so I had to practically beg for months. Turians are easy. No fear of getting sick. Death even. None of that...interspecies miscommunication. When you have to take precautions, you’re serious about it before you know it.”

Tertius continued. ”But it says a lot about you both, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your commander is serious about you. Not many men could hold a light to her. She probably knows it too.”

By this time, the two men were fully dressed, packing their dirty clothes in a few bags. Garrus looked to Tertius, who somehow became a mentor figure to him without realizing it. He started to speak, but a little slowly and hesitant, “I’m not sure if that’s going to happen...she thinks I’m going to break a promise.”

Tertius shrugged, “So, what? You’re just going to take that and walk away?”

Garrus struggled with his thoughts. “I thought I had an answer for her, but now I’m not so sure.”

Tertius was grinning, “I know you respect the commander but sometimes you’ve got to fight for it, show her you’re not discouraged. Some women like being chased around. It’s part of human courting culture.”

“I don’t think Shepard is that kind of woman.”

Tertius laughed. “I said being chased around, not playing hard to get.”

The conversation lifted Garrus’ spirits. He started to feel confident again, especially when the advice came from a turian already in an established relationship with a human female. The two accompanied each other to the building mess hall, lining themselves up with trays and piling up turian morsels onto their plates before seating themselves down at the round mess tables. Rachel had joined them and sat herself next to her husband. They engaged in light conversation, talking about past missions and plans for their future. After meal time Garrus headed back to the headquarters, working alongside the others without much thought.

The next few days went without much sleep. Garrus had gotten to know his other operatives in a more casual manner, finding himself in the company of his subordinates with time. Lorex Varo turned out to have a very dry sense of humor, completely unexpected from his stoic demeanor. Roderic, on the other hand, seemed to come to Garrus for all sorts of questions. He seemed a bit gung-ho and eager to learn anything and everything from Garrus. It was clear that the younger turian admired his superior officer.

Roderic came across as young to Garrus, and while it wasn’t a very clear difference, there was a rift in experience between the two. Garrus had to live through survival situations, and Roderic was most likely to have sat behind a war map unscathed. It was clear that Roderic was sheltered, and given that his family was so high up the meritocracy it would not be too surprising.

But over the following week, the Reaper task force made more calls and connections to the turian sphere of the galaxy. Garrus had few meaningful interactions with his crew. Amalie seemed to have respectfully let him go his own way while Tertius seldom had inquiries about Commander Shepard. They were preparing to depart to Menae in a week to officially begin debriefing their soldiers. It would be one of several stops in a tour of duty. Garrus did not want to leave his family so early after his mother’s death, but he knew it was necessary. He had periodically stopped by home to pick up more items and talk to his father in person. During one night, however, he stopped in his home’s hallway when he saw his father’s shadow in the dining room.


	14. Chapter 14

“Dad?” Garrus spoke quietly before his father turned in his seat, reading a datapad in the dim light. The house was silent, and it was clear that Caius had been up studying or at least reading feeds.

“Ah, Garrus,” Caius responded, pulling out a chair in an invitation to his son. The noise of the chair against the floor was the only thing that broke the silence.

Garrus sat down, placing an overpacked bag on the floor with a thud.

“Things going well with the Tribunal?” Caius asked in genuine interest.

Garrus nodded softly, “Yeah, we’re ready for deployment. Just waiting for confirmation from Fedorian.”

His father made a gruff sound. “Hmm. I watched that newscast a few moments ago. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Garrus was dreading the incoming interrogation. He'd probably criticize his composure, his answers, something. “What do you mean? Did I say something wrong?”

Caius lifted a hand, “No, no, it’s not that.” He let out a slight chuckle. “You did fine. I just wanted to let you know that you did great. A package came in for you.”

Garrus wasn’t expecting one. “Oh? From who?”

Caius reached down and placed a small metal container on the table’s surface. It was apparently a package from Earth, sent recently to the household. The package was marked with Alliance labels, inspected, and had several licenses attached to it. “Earth, it seems. Whoever sent this went through a whole lot of trouble getting it to you.”

Garrus pawed at the package a bit before he saw his father gesture his hands to open it. He reluctantly placed his thumbprint onto a tab and the package let out a hissing sound, de-pressurizing its contents. Garrus felt some soft cloth wrapped around a cool metal device. He pulled it out.

Caius whistled softly, “Looks expensive.”

Garrus looked for a note, a hologram, anything to let him know how it came to him. There were no indicators, but it was a state-of-the-art visor. Garrus lifted the black soft cloth that wrapped the visor, a scarf maybe. He held it to his nose and recognized its scent. It didn’t take too much to realize where it had come from.

 

Art by [ellernock.](http://ellernock.tumblr.com/post/33883966351/mebigbang)

“Just in time for your birthday too,” Caius looked on as Garrus took off his old visor and began fiddling with the new device. “I could only guess who sent it to you.”

Garrus did not turn on the visor, but glanced to his father, who gave him an all-knowing look. Garrus looked down with the new visor still in his hands before his father spoke again, “It’s a very human thing to do, isn’t it? To give gifts on birthdays?”

Garrus nodded slowly. He recalled the times he tried, sometimes unsuccessfully, to give gifts to his commander. During their first mission together he was unaware that birthdays were often greeted with presents. He was sure to do something once they fought off the Collectors. In the few weeks leading to their suicide mission he showered her with gifts, even, “overdoing it” as she said.

But he also had told her that turians gave gifts without occasion. Shepard was more keen, however, and knew that the multitude of small presents was simply a way to express his romantic interest in her. Turians used gifts as well to elicit a courtship, collecting and amassing things around their prospective mate. He had given her at least a gift each week during their mission against the Collectors. Sometimes something as small as a thermal clip, her favorite meal, and up to that expensive necklace she loved to wear with that black dress. However, since leaving Illium, he hadn’t sent her anything. He intended to, but strangely enough, turians rarely sent gifts abroad. There was some taboo about it-an old superstition that sending a gift without the recipient present was like wishing the very worst, or like saying goodbye forever.

“Yeah,” Garrus said softly to his father, “Humans like to celebrate birthdays.”

“She seems to have quite an attachment to you.” Caius said casually. “How many gifts did you give her before you left for Palaven?”

Garrus froze. It would’ve come sooner or later, though. His father might’ve been in retirement, but he was still as sharp as ever. It was clear at this point that Caius was fully aware of the lady in question. Whether it was just from pure observation or inquiries, it didn’t matter now. Garrus never could hide from his father. “I’ve amassed a bit of a nest. I wasn’t satisfied at its size yet...”

“You’re quite serious, then.” There was a pause. “Does she know what it means?”

Garrus looked to his father with his new visor in place. “She...knows more about turian culture than I do human. And...she can speak Cipritinese fluently.”

Caius had his arms crossed. “That’s a given. She’s a spacer kid. Are you sure she is interested in you and not because you’re a turian?”

“I highly doubt it. Humans don’t exactly think we’re the best-looking species around...”

Caius rested his chin in his hands. “And what about you?”

Garrus looked to his side briefly, “She’s Commander Shepard...how could I say no?”

“So she was the first to express interest? She took the turian route in courting you?”

“N-no, I mean...not like that...” He sighed softly. “I trust her. She trusts me. I think it was more gradual if anything.”

Caius didn’t immediately reply. He leant back in his seat after a few moments. “So my son,” he started slowly, “with a _human_.”

Garrus didn’t say anything back, but looked to his father for a reaction. Caius looked to have gone deeper in thought, silent, before he began to speak with a neutral expression. “Who’d ever thought? Although we never really talked about the specifics of your...dealings with women, I figured at the very least you were a one-turian kind of man.”

“Apparently not for turians, but a one-woman kind of man, sure.” Garrus felt another lecture from his father coming his way, and decided to elicit it for the sake of getting it overwith. “I’m supposing you’re not going to say any more about it?”

Caius tilted his seat back to an upright position, folding his hands over the table, “What is there to say? You’re in love with one of most powerful women in the galaxy. It’s clear that she could take care of herself and won’t back down from a fight. Most turian fathers would be proud.”

“But...” Garrus said slowly, slightly surprised at his father’s response, “You’re not?”

“Well, she’s a human and a Spectre. I typically don’t like either, but she’s proven her mettle. I’m more concerned that broadcasting yourselves out to the galaxy would fare poorly. Some turians are simply not ready for that, not so soon after our dealings with them. And she won’t be able to give you any children. Have you thought of that?”

Garrus found himself touching and playing with the ends of his sleeves, almost like a child. “What’s wrong with a little hoping that science would catch up? After all we’ve been through, isn’t our right to want a little normalcy?”

Caius jerked back. “There’s nothing normal about you two, and there never will.”

The comment stung Garrus a little bit, but his head tried to clear itself of sudden reactions. It’s true that the more time he had spent away from Shepard, the more he had been hoping for that picture-perfect ending, maybe too much.

“But...Shepard is a remarkable woman,” Caius continued, “as you are a remarkable man. To me, that’s as natural and fitting as it could get.”

Garrus’ spirits lifted. “Then you approve?”

“In your words exactly, ‘How could I say no to Commander Shepard?’”

Garrus smiled.

“But setting that aside,” Caius looked straight to his son, “How long do you intend to keep this secret from the galaxy?”

“As long as we could possibly can.” Garrus looked down, “But, now I’m not so sure.”

“War?”

Caius struck a note, and Garrus could only hang his head a little further. “Yeah,” he said, “War.”

“I’m sure you’ll find her under a sky of bullets, as you usually do” Caius stared up to the ceiling before meeting eyes with his son. “The Reapers are bigger than us and the humans. Declarations of love might be the only sane thing standing after this is all said and done.”


	15. Chapter 15

A few weeks later Garrus found himself holding onto the cool metal of a stirrup, balancing his stance against the rocky sway of a land vehicle trodding along the surface of Menae, one of Palaven’s moons. His suit was still relatively new, with minor scratches to a side he took when a rookie soldier stumbled on him during training demonstrations. Garrus had said his goodbyes to his family, for now.

Little Mina had stood before him at the skyport, her large eyes staring up. She had lost more of her down over the few months, perhaps due to the passing of her grandaunt and the looming fact that her childhood might be cut short. Yet, she was there, bidding her goodbyes to the uncle that she rarely saw, but often heard of. Baro was standing by her with his large hand on her tiny right shoulder.

“Out to save the world again?” Baro said with a smile.

Garrus nodded to his cousin before he reached down to take hold of his luggage. Solana was nearby and she smacked his back, causing Garrus to stumble slightly.

“Geez Garrus,” Solana laughed. “Remind me to make improvements to your armor. Or it could be that your balance is really that pathetic.”

“I could be standing on gelatin and still keep my aim,” Garrus remarked.

Uncle Lucian, who stood next to Aunt Agrippina and Caius, took Garrus’ hand.

“Uncle Lucian, Aunt Gippi,” Garrus began, “will your family be alright?”

“We’ll be alright,” Agrippina answered. “The colonies would be a good place to be for awhile. We’ll try our best to stay as low-key as possible and join the fight when the time comes. Don’t worry about us. You’ve got a bigger battle to pick.”

Garrus straightened his back when facing his father. Caius leaned closer to Garrus, giving him a hug, patting his back in a hearty manner. “Send my regards to your commander,” he said in a low voice.

Thanks to Solana, his whole family knew by now. They caught Garrus stashing away a barrel full of items, from human accessories and even an expensive Graal Spike Thrower X model, bartered with extreme difficulty from a retired turian general. The container was addressed to an ambiguous location on Earth. Once Agrippina and Lucian knew, they nearly fainted. They were more in shock but eventually came to. “Garrus is quite the handsome boy, after all,” they reasoned. Baro was completely happy for his cousin, but was bombarded with questions from Mina about the nature of interspecies romance. “For another time,” Baro was sure to note.

Garrus stood for a few silent moments memorizing the smiles of his family. He knew that it could be very well one of the last memories with them. He waved to his kin before boarding the ship and getting lost in the sea of people.

“Sir,” Garrus heard Roderic’s voice. It broke his daydreaming.“We’re touching down.”

The doors opened, letting that crisp and cool air in. Menae had a oxygen-rich atmosphere and posed no need for headgear. Garrus squinted, looking out past the settling dust and under the makeshift metal tents. There was a flurry of turian soldiers on the ground and the drilling cadence of voices at a distance.

Lorex and Roderic exited with Garrus, jumping a few feet off the ground and landing with a hard thud. A welcoming party of two stood nearby. A tall turian with green bright eyes approached them while flanked with a smaller woman.

“Dux Vakarian,” the voice called out to him, “General Corinthus.”

Garrus responded with a nod while the general motioned towards a direction. Soon after Amalie, Tertius, and Rachel exited the vehicle. As they walked past the various barricades Corinthus began discussing and debriefing Garrus about his mission on Menae as they were to adequately train the Hierarchy’s leaders on Reaper strategies. As they were guided towards their bunkers and rest areas, the Tribunal began to branch off at different areas, but Garrus felt Amalie keeping step with him. He looked ahead and saw a familiar face, their commanding officer from many years ago.

It was a much older turian who was definitely ripe for retirement. Garrus knew him to be a softer kind of man, more lenient and forgiving of smaller instances unless it interfered with their missions. Many turians vied to join his troops since they were more loose with regulations, and therefore was a breeding ground for troublesome adolescent behavior. It was a peculiar thing for the oldest of generals to be the least strict, but then again it has been said that his promotions were delayed for his lack of discipline. Eventually he was promoted on basis of experience and age.

“General Celata,” Amalie stopped in her tracks and saluted him.

“Tribuna Endario,” the older turian smiled and in a friendly fashion took both her hands in his, shaking them. “Good to see you. And...”

He turned to Garrus and saluted firmly. It wasn’t until now that Garrus felt the full effect of his promotion. He was now being saluted to by his former superiors. It was a strange feeling, but Garrus hadn’t the second to really contemplate on it. He nodded towards the general and began to make light conversation.

“How are your troops?” Garrus asked.

“Ah, as rambunctious as ever.” Celata grinned, “But they don’t hold a light to your antics, Vaklarian. How does the new position suit you?”

“The formalities are beginning to snuff a lot out of me, but I am holding up just fine.” Garrus responded. He looked to Amalie briefly before glancing back to the general. She had known him longer, and even more so in an inappropriate manner. Amalie was never one to practice protocol when it came to personal relationships. She was always the teacher’s pet, but it was difficult to not like her when she was so good at being charming. The general’s son had become her bedmate for some time. Garrus was only aware of the fact from vid reports and assumed it was just one of Amalie’s fast-tracks to promotion.

“How is Allian?” Amalie added.

General Celata’s face was still cheerful. He was unaffected by the passing thought or simply keeping up appearances. “Ah, still mourning over the nest he made for you.”

Amalie took it with lightheartedness. “It’s been five years, General. Surely he’s moved on?”

“Ah yes, but he is young. He is bound to understand the game one way or another.” The general looked to Garrus, “And despite your age, Vakarian, you’ve come on your own quite finely. Is Livia well? Have you set a date to your bonding ceremony?”

Garrus’ head tilted down slightly. It would only take a name to bring back the awful memories. The general had been out of touch since his recruitment into C-Sec. The last Celata had heard of Garrus might have been from the grapevine. Garrus kept his composure. It had been several years after all, but his main concern was talking about it in front of Amalie.

“Livia and I are no longer together,” Garrus said matter-of-factly, “intergalactic distance took a toll on her. I have not spoken to her in many years, but I assume that she is doing well.”

The general drew up a hand to rub one of his mandibles. “Ah, well, she came from a fine family indeed. But now that you’ve drawn the Vakarian name further up, I bet she is regretting it.”

“General,” Amalie said, “Not all relationships are about climbing up the Hierarchy.”

Celata grinned, “Endario, did I just hear that correctly? Coming from _you_?”

It was clear the general was just as aware as Amalie of her past intentions, but strangely enough they were congenial and simply throwing light verbal jabs at one another. It was a common occurrence for turian families to bond simply on merit alone. The usual perception with turian women, on the other hand, was that they were seldom faithful for this reason. While males tended to hold a stalwart loyal to their wives, their female counterparts held extra-martial lovers. Typically women of well-bred pedigree would engage themselves in such things and it was expected of them. Garrus had not personally experienced this phenomenon in his family as they were lower in rank for the most part, save for Livia.

But mention of exes was, unfortunately, unavoidable. Livia Pallin was a well-mannered and polite woman at the time. Garrus met her through her brother, who was a seasoned officer in C-Sec. The relationship between Livia and Garrus was one akin to college sweethearts on the graduation pulpit, suddenly realizing that they might have outgrown or miscalculated their professional compatibility. Once Garrus had become “unsuitable” to Livia, she quickly found someone who was. At the time, Garrus was highly suspicious that she had been manipulated, and found that her brother had been puppeteering his sister’s social connections all along. Garrus was unwise at the time, and his hotheaded ways led him to insult their family. It was clear then that he had dug himself a deep hole, considering that Captain Venari Pallin, their uncle, was slated to become the next executor.

Such relationships in turian culture were common. But Garrus had sidestepped the mannerisms by reacting rashly, even immaturely. Caius had been slightly shamed by Garrus’ outburst of emotions then. But it explained why the elder Vakarian found all the justification to be stricter to his son. It wasn’t until recently that Garrus had realized that his father was trying to protect him from the fallout, and in particular from further animosity with Venari Pallin.

Unlike Garrus, however, Amalie seemed to wade through political intrigues with unnatural deftness. The Endarios were higher up the Hierarchy than the Vakarians, but lower than the Pallins. Amalie was well-bred and coached. It was also unique that unlike Garrus, Amalie was capable of retaining friendly relationships from those she might have insulted and hurt in the past. Her main case in point was General Celata. It was clear she knew what she was doing, because she laughed in response to the general, making it clear his snarky comment about her conduct with his son was the least bit hurtful.

The general was far from offended. In fact, it seemed as if he still held Amalie in high regard. Not before long, he nodded towards Garrus and Amalie to end their conversation. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare my documents. We’ll see each other at the briefing.”

Amalie began to walk in step with Garrus shortly after, trailing him slightly with a laugh. “So, Garrus, care to tell me what that was all about? Livia Pallin? Really?”

Garrus did not look to Amalie. He instead let out a soft sigh. “Yeah...”

“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” Amalie replied.

The comment really struck Garrus. He turned to her and could not tell for certainty, but it seemed that Amalie was sincere.

“You’ve got a really big heart,” Amalie continued, “I don’t know if you hold any resentment towards me for what I’ve done, but for all it’s worth, I’m alright with you. I hope you hear me out on that at the very least.”

Garrus was slightly shocked. His eyes narrowed to try to discern any lying coming from Amalie’s mouth. He tilted his head lightly to her, “So...how am I supposed to take that?”

Amalie shrugged. “Take it however you want. I’ve left things in the past, as they should be. You’re a good man, but the further up the ranks you go, the worse it’ll get.”

“You mean I’ll just be flooded by women just itching to bond with me for my title?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Garrus held his head lower. As much as he didn’t want to see it, she was absolutely right. Turian women were ruthless. If they did not hold a good rank themselves, it was common for them to marry themselves into higher positions.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be one of them,” she smiled. “Although you weren’t bad your first try, I’m in no hurry to check out how much you’ve improved.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared, to which Amalie laughed and patted his shoulder. It was clear then that Garrus had realized that all those strange, awkward feelings had been smoothed away with her humor. He found himself smiling back at Amalie. Maybe things wouldn’t get worse, after all.


	16. Chapter 16

“No, that won’t do.” Rachel said, shaking her head. “We need to make them cheaply.”

The Tribunal had been in discussion with the generals of the turian Empire. They were housed in a makeshift tent overlooking a holoboard. Rachel had taken the front, debriefing the generals and the present Primarch about their demolition specifics. They were nearly three hours in. Garrus was standing nearby, with his arms crossed while his subordinates were nearby, all dressed in the same metallic blue armor. There were about ten individuals gathered around in a circle. The Primarch was there, flanked by his generals. His bodyguards were nearby at the tent’s entrance, carefully surveying the perimeter at all times.

“Pft,” a voice spoke out, “Of course you want to make it cheap. You’re _human_. Always working for profit.”

“Excuse me?” Rachel responded back.

“You’ve heard what I said,” the speaker pointed to Rachel, “Why is a human part of our Tribunal? What’s telling us that she’s not working for the interests of her species?”

Rachel’s human lips tightened. Garrus knew what this meant. She was trying to hold back words. He’s seen Shepard do this many times, even though more subtle, when offended or asked the hard questions.

The speaker was an older turian, one who had fought and survived the Relay 314 Incident, or the First Contact War. He raised his hands at Rachel’s direction and his voice amplified in volume. “If we lower the cost as you say, its quality will be diminished. We cannot have malfunctioning grenades.”

“General Aretino,” Rachel shook her head, “The more simplistic the program, the easier it will be to replicate.”

“What if the systems are hacked? By the Geth?”

Rachel held up her hands, palms facing forward. “General, I have taken the latest technologies from the Alliance’s most recent salvages of Geth armory and tested these grenades against them. They are sound. I assure you that our best technicians have proofed them.”

“And by 'our' do you mean humans?”

Garrus’ back straightened but he saw that Lorex had wedged himself near the general. The larger turian had an intimidating stare, and apparently he chose the general as his target. Aretino slightly flinched after his comment, but Garrus added his two cents anyways. “General Aretino, Rachel is of the Lorinian clan. Formerly written. Schooled in our history. She’s as turian as she could possibly be. Her interests are no longer with the human species, it is with us."

“But did she not admit herself that she drew information from her beloved Alliance? How can you be so sure? Her child is human, how could you say that he is your son with any sense of pride, Terti-?”

“That is enough!” Primarch Fedorian interjected. The tent got deathly quiet. “General Aretino, I hand-picked Rachel Lorinian purely on her skills. She is the very best at what she does. The fact that she human is secondary to her importance to us. The fact that she has chosen to raise her brood here instead of Earth speaks volumes to her stake in Palaven. Do not let your past prejudices cloud your eyes to what’s really important. Your outburst was unnecessary and unhelpful. Restrain yourself.”"

The older general slouched back, slightly ashamed, but Garrus moved on to defuse the tension. “Varo, Axius, and Endario have been assigned to the colonies to debrief the chain of command,” Garrus added, “The Lorinians and myself will stay planetside to further develop any weapons and keep communications open. Any suggestions should be relayed to me. So far, it’s a work in progress.”

The debriefing ended shortly after, with the generals disbanding to their posts. The Primarch took Garrus aside and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Any news of Earth?”

One of Garrus’ browplates shifted, “Sir?”

“Your father told me that Earth will most likely be their primary target. Have the humans done any preparations?”

Garrus shook his head. “Sadly, no. The one person they should listen to is in the brig."

“Commander Shepard?”

“Yes.”

“Humans are interesting that way. They’re probably debating whether or not to believe her. If you have three humans in a room, there will be six opinions. In her case...I reckon twelve.”

Garrus looked out the tent, looking at the dawning rotation of Palaven in front of him. “Hopefully they realize their mistake before the Reapers come.”

“Are you worried about her?”

The observation threw Garrus back a bit, but he looked to the Primarch. The younger turian found it hard to form any kind of response. He wanted to remain professional and concise, but the Primarch’s question was borderline personal.

Primarch Fedorian, however, smiled and chuckled. “Caius and I have a long history. We keep no secrets between us. Albeit our relationship not as...I suppose romantic...as yours with Commander Shepard.”

Garrus’ face remained stoic. “Then I suppose you’re going to berate me?”

“Spirits no,” Fedorian laughed. “Diplomatically, if anything were to come of it, it would be quite the boon. It would be a nice change for our species and put the Relay 314 Incident behind us, along with prejudiced generals like Aretino.”

“Sir?”

The Primarch smiled. “We have much to learn from the humans. Despite being so new to the intergalactic world, they were capable of holding their own against us and expand their territories at an alarming rate. Their ability to adapt is unprecedented. If any species were to survive the Reapers, sadly, I would put my money on them.”

Garrus was slightly shocked. “You have no faith in us?”

“Considering that the majority of species in this galaxy are levo-based lifeforms, we’d quite doomed if Palaven was shot out of orbit.” The Primarch patted Garrus on his shoulder, “But it is mainly because we need more individuals like yourself, Vakarian. There aren’t enough of you.”

“Thank you sir.”

Another pat on the shoulder. “So, we will be in touch.”


	17. Chapter 17

The Primarch left Garrus in the tent while the rest of the Tribunal gathered around him. They were scheduled for their physical and had to report to the med bay, especially when they were to be deployed the next morning. The med bay was nearby and the task force undressed behind a series of stalls and curtains. There was little room for modesty in the turian military, and other soldiers, about three squads of fifteen, were being processed at the same time. Garrus recognized many of the squads by age and they were probably fresh recruits. However, the ritual of public medical exams was a turian pasttime. Eavesdropping was a common occurrence and verbal hazing was expected. Garrus was to go last, and was hoping that no one would hear his medical history. A basic examination would always work around through a series of questions such as “Origin of birth?” “Any allergies?” But it was always the last question that was the source of meaty gossip: “How many sexual partners have you had and of which species?”

During a turian’s first few years in the military they would listen into the medical histories of their colleagues and sometimes tag each other with relentless ridicule. One soldier, Garrus remembered, had sexual relations with krogan females while abroad in Tuchanka. The teasing had been so severe that he found it impossible to find a turian mate, as everyone seemed to have heard news of it. The last Garrus heard of him was that after the military this particular soldier had actually joined a mercenary squad near Tuchanka.

Garrus was mildly apprehensive. With turian males, the less the number of sexual liaisons the better since it was seen as a reflection of loyalty. He stood in line while Axius was first for his examination. A bit of blood was drawn and the nurse measured his vitals with an omni-tool.

“Last examination?” the male nurse asked.

“5th moon, Menae’s dawn.” Axius said.

“Origin of birth?”

“Cipritine.”

“Any allergies?”

“Levo-positive.”

“Any major surgeries?”

“Left spur three years ago.”

The questioning went on, but it was clear that the squad was clearly waiting for the last question. There were three rows of nurses and doctors were examining the lines, many of the turians bunched up near the front to listen in to embarrassing histories of the other soldiers.

“Sexual partners?”

Roderic flinched slightly, showing a touch of shyness. “One.”

“Which species?”

“Turian female.”

“Next.”

Roderic dodged major complications. His history was nothing unusual, since mating outside one’s species was embarrassing. They would be bombarded with curious questions and mocking comments. It was rare for a turian to have relations outside their species for this reason, more so publicly bond.

Lorex Varo, like Roderic, had a pretty clean record as well. He had no surgeries or allergies, however, and had an acceptable number of partners, nothing to tease him about. Varo did have preferences for the same sex, but such relationships were seldom met with a raised eyebrow within turian culture. When time came for Amalie, she strutted onto the examination platform, nearly nude, clearly proud judging by her stance and posture.

“Any major surgeries?” the nurse asked.

“None.” Amalie responded.

“Sexual partners?”

She smiled. “Twenty-five.”

The males in the tent gave out verbal cheers towards Amalie. A turian female who had her share of sexual conquests was lauded and praised for her efforts.

“Which species?”

“All turian males.”

More whistling and cheering, enough for the doctors to hush the crowd in order to move on to Rachel, who had to be taken sideways by a special line. She had to be paired with the only intraspecies doctor on the base, an aging female turian. The soldiers listened intently to Rachel’s history, clearly interested in what kinds of things a human would hold.

“Origin of birth?” the doctor asked.

“Earth. The Chinese People’s Federation.” Rachel said.

“Any allergies?”

“None.”

After the series of basic questions, the last was held with strained breath.

“Sexual partners?”

“Four.”

The doctor paused while a murmur swept the floor. She continued, “Species?”

Rachel’s face was stoic. She had gone through enough examinations to realize that what would be offensive and humiliating for humans wasn’t as so for turians. She seemed to take it in stride and her lips curled at its ends, “Three human males, one turian male.”

Garrus could hear a hushed conversation in the background. “Is that normal?” “I heard they don’t know when they’re fertile, that’s why they don’t have that many partners.” “Why didn’t she sleep with more turian men?” “Dunno...but four seems mighty low for a female.” “Are you serious? They can have unwanted pregnancies? How bizarre!”

Garrus let out a deep sigh, eliciting a response from Tertius, who was standing in front of him.

“Nosy brats,” Tertius said in a low voice. His head was slightly turned back.

“I hear you,” Garrus replied, “But at least that’s what they expect her to say. You’re married to her.”

Tertius chuckled softly, “If that’s what you think...then good luck when you’re on stage, Vakarian.”

Tertius’ examination went on without a hitch. He was levo-positive, and had to go through a whole list of antibiotics he was prescribed as well as an implant that periodically injected boosters. He had a good health record although his history drew a few snickers from the crowd. The forced whispers were was mainly from rookies who weren’t aware that he was bonded with a human; particularly the human that stood six feet away. For Garrus, though, despite being last he had a pretty sizable crowd of eavesdroppers. He began to feel the slightest bit nervous, and with each passing moment it began to snowball.

A male turian doctor waved his omni-tool at Garrus and ran a few diagnostics around his face. “Any major surgeries?”

“Whole right side of face, neck, shoulder.”

The crowd whistled, clearly impressed and curious.

“Your cybernetics are human-branded, looks state of the art.”

Garrus drew up his omni-tool. “Sorry doctor, I’ve forgotten. Uploading the software to you right now.”

The doctor stared at the flashing orange scripts and smiled. “Spirits, this costs a fortune. The humans took very good care of you. Scars are starting to fade, however. You didn’t elect to get them removed?”

“No, I, uh...” In truth Garrus wanted to keep the scars since Commander Shepard had taken a deep interest in them. Or at least he thought. Of the nights they spent next to each other she’d trace her fingertips across the ridges of his scarring. Despite his nerves being dulled there, Garrus liked it. The sensation was intimate, warm, and he loved the way she touched him. “Battle scars,” he added.

“From?”

“A missile to the face.”

The crowd whispered in disbelief. “Dux Vakarian survived a missile?” “Wow!” “No wonder he’s leading the Tribunal.” “He must be hard to kill.”

The doctor continued on. “Sexual partners?”

“Three.”

“Which species?”

Garrus found himself hesitating. “Two turian females.” He gulped slightly before clearing his throat, “One human female.”

The last answer elicited a surprised gawk from the doctor. “No allergies?”

Garrus had already said no, but he repeated himself to clarify. “No, sir. None.”

He could already hear the brewing gossip. There were surprised voices chattering about, clearly in suspended disbelief.

“Out of curiosity,” the doctor was struggling to word himself correctly, “Was she allergic?”

“No. Naturally compatible.”

The doctor’s eyes widened and he continued to read the diagnostics displayed on his omni-tool screen. The crowd continued whispering. The doctor was blushing a bit, the flesh around his eyes were slightly more blue in color. It wasn’t unusual for a doctor to exhibit curiosity, but his next question threw Garrus off. “A Normandy crew member?” He was clear that he was stringing bits of information together. The doctor had read his past records and deduced that Garrus had slept with a human woman during his operations on the Normandy SR-2.

“Uh...” Garrus struggled. He scratched his cheek.

The doctor blush deepened but he caught himself asking an unprofessional inquiry, “I’m sorry. No matter. Just my curiosity.”

A voice yelled from the crowd, “Seems like the humans _did_ really take good care of you, Dux Vakarian!” A roar of laughter followed. “Was it the doctor? Doctor Karin Chakwas?” “You like the older ones, Vakarian?” “Humans are so soft, wouldn’t they burst if you squeezed them?” “What about that black-fringed one, that Cerberus one?” “Did you like kissing her? With their squishy lips?” “Don’t tell us that you slept with that biotic bald one, she’s crazy!” “Are they really flexible as they say?”

Garrus slapped his forehead. Tertius approached him and patted his back softly. Garrus was about to yell back to the unruly crowd with some smart comment before another voice cried out. “Wait...was it Commander Shepard?”

The crowd grew silent, and Garrus turned his face to try to avoid being read. A wave of hushed voices followed. “By the spirits, you did, didn’t you?” “If you slept with Commander Shepard...” “Spirits, you’re serious?” “Wait, that makes sense!” “O.M.S...”

Another voice yelled out, “You’re incredible, Dux Vakarian! Good for you!”

Suddenly a cry of cheers followed with loud applause. Garrus felt that his verbal stoning had turned into a celebration, provided that he simply allow the masses to believe what they will. He quietly exited the tent with his Tribunal with a sense of uplifting relief.


	18. Chapter 18

As the Tribunal begun their walk to their barracks, Garrus felt Amalie’s shadow follow him. “So...is it true?” She was flanking him closely.

Garrus found no reason to hide it anymore. “Yeah.”

Amalie whistled, “Holy Spirits. You did yourself real well then."

“You could say that.”

“So how do you...do it?”

Roderic chimed in, “Yes, sir. How do you _do_ it?”

Garrus’ tone went slightly sarcastic, “Really? And you too, Axius? Why don’t you ask the Lorinians? They’re the experts.”

“Wait-hey!” Tertius was in a half-laugh. “That was uncalled for.”

Rachel was smiling. “Dux Vakarian, you know we’re just as curious as Endario and Axius are. We’ll probably bother you the whole night before you give in.”

Garrus stopped in his tracks, right at the entrance to the tented sleeping quarters for the task force. He turned to face his group, seeing that they all showed genuine interest. “Break out the drinks.” He said, “It’ll be a long night.”

A few hours later Garrus found himself half-drunk, drowning in pools of turian brandy and triple-filtered beer. He sat on a few crates in a circle outside the tent’s opening, laughing alongside the Tribunal. Rachel had turned on a digital sound player and they listened to the latest intergalactic beats while talking to one another.

“And then she said,” Lorex continued, “‘Why not? It’s a little cold anyways.’”

The crew laughed in unison. Lorex turned out to be the comedian when drunk.

Garrus tilted his head back to swig a gulp from his bottle and felt Tertius’ hand on his shoulder. Both men were holding in their liquor quite well, and were the most sober of the group.

“Hey Vakarian,” Tertius said in the low voice, “Tell us about your visit with Dr. Solus.”

Garrus laughed. “He passed me pamphlets about interspecies intercourse and I thought it was bullshit. Said that a human’s legs were supposed to pretzel backwards or some weird crap like that.”

The others chuckled.

“So I went to the human doctor and she berated me for not coming to her sooner. Said that Dr. Solus ‘didn’t know anything. How could he? He doesn’t even know how many livers humans have!’”

“How many livers _do_ humans have?” Amalie asked.

“One,” Rachel answered with a slight giggle.

“Yup,” Garrus continued while he leant forward in his seat, “So the old doctor began giving me more pamphlets, vids, and prodded me with needles to check if I was levo-compatible. Turns out I was fine. And so was she for dextros, I mean.”

“You’re a lucky bastard, Vakarian,” Tertius said in a lighthearted manner. Unfortunately, Tertius had to take precautions whenever he engaged with his wife.

“Anyways, Dr. Chakwas then begins to narrate her credentials in human-turian relationships. Turns out...the old hen’s had a few interspecies liaisons herself. She was newly promoted during the Relay 314 Incident, assigned to patrol the outer fringes of Alliance space. Her crew caught a turian scout on the outskirts of their parameter. He was critically injured, so she nursed him back to health. He totally fell for her, told her he was itching to abduct her back to Palaven.”

“Was this man someone we know?” Roderic asked.

“Yeah,” Garrus smirked and folded his hands over his knees, “General Aretino.”

The others laughed aloud. Tertius especially. “No wonder he gave Rachel a hard time! He must have been itching for human ass.”

“Oh, stop it!” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Only one man has access to my ass.”

“A mighty fine one, too.” Tertius winked while taking another swig of his liquor and drawing his mate closer.

Lorex was next to speak, “So, Vakarian. Is that what you like in Shepard too?”

Garrus was mid-drink before he spat out a bit, causing the task force to chuckle amongst themselves. “Have you seen the vids? It’s...wow.”

“I don’t get how you could find them so pleasing to the eyes,” Roderic commented, “Their waists are so wide. Their faces aren’t flat. And they’ve got ridiculously tall noses too.”

Garrus smirked and shook his bottle at Roderic, “It’s because you haven’t touched a human female before, my friend. And they smell gorgeous. Go on, smell the missus and see what I mean.”

Tertius was a good sport and played along. He nudged his wife towards the curious turian. Rachel was happy to oblige. She lifted her chin and leant towards Roderic for him to get a good whiff of her neck. The young turian cautiously drew close before springing back.

“Spirits,” Roderic said . “You’re right! But sir...something confuses me...why do you insist calling her Commander Shepard? I would’ve thought...”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Garrus’ voice went low, “I only say her first name during special occasions.”

“Special..?”

Tertius slapped Garrus on his back, “Stop it man! You’re embarrassing us all!”

Garrus chuckled, “No, it’s true. She’s a woman worth the respect. At least I’m not letting others take a sniff of my wife.”

Tertius grinned, but Amalie was not amused. She stood up and had her hands on her hips, “So Vakarian, planning to ruin our females for everyone now?”

“Hell yeah,” Garrus chuckled. “And you’re one to talk, Endario.”

Amalie tossed her head back in mock-disdain while she headed towards the cooler container, “Insult me all you like. Once I’m in season, believe me, no man can resist me.”

Garrus smiled. It was good to be talking to Amalie without hatred, although he never altogether hated her in the first place. But strangely enough Roderic stood straight up and insisted Amalie to sit back down. It was not unusual that he treated her with such a gentlemanly manner, but his hands gingerly swiped her waist before he left. To Garrus’ eyes, it was purely intentional. The group got quiet.

“Are you the one he referred to in his medical exam?” Garrus broke the silence.

“Yup.” Amalie said proudly with a glimmer in her golden eyes. “Can’t exactly chase the Fedorians around, and the Victuses have only one son. Tarquin’s a little too immature for my tastes, anyhow.”

Tertius softly laughed. “Wow, Endario. You’re unbelievable.”

“Just as any respectable turian female should be.” Amalie said with an air. “Aren’t you going to say congratulations, Garrus?”

Garrus was a bit taken back with her use of his first name, but he smiled at her. “Sure. Wouldn’t surprise me if you manage to uproot the Axiuses on your way to the Victuses, and while you’re at it, throw off the Fedorians for good measure. But yeah, let’s toast to Tribuna Amalie Endario. Probably the next mistress of the Primarch if we ever knew one.”

The other three, Tertius, Rachel, and Lorex, cheered on and toasted to Amalie while she curtsied with a big smile.

Garrus nodded to her. “Take good care of him, Endario.”

But in the back of Garrus’ mind he finally came to peace with her. Amalie was never one to draw her emotions with her relationships. She operated on power, and manipulated for it. Garrus was simply happy that despite her heart-breaking ways, she held little resentment for others. Roderic may very well learn the hard way, but it was inevitable with turian women of good graces.

The night wore on with laughter. Garrus was glad to see his group blow of steam in a seemingly harmless manner. He brought out a clawball set and played a few rounds with the team while bystanding rookies began to volunteer themselves into a quick game. They shortly took showers and set themselves down for the night, or at least what was clocked to be nighttime with the rotation of the moon.

Garrus was tucked tightly into his sheets and he rested his visor near his side. He saw the shadows of Tertius and Rachel wander outside, watching the shadows of their silhouettes against the cloth overlap of the sides. Rachel was giggling lightly as her husband grabbed her by the waist, drawing her closer. Garrus couldn’t hear much of what was going on. His eyes hooded over the moment Tertius began to bend and dip his mate backwards while the two shadows merged in silence.


	19. Chapter 19

It was a few days after Shepard’s covert operations in Batarian space. The Normandy was cruising through space with little aim, dropping off operatives from one place to another. She had announced her decision to turn the ship back to the Alliance the night before. It didn’t come much to anyone’s surprise after Admiral Hackett stepped aboard the ship.

Shepard was looking out from the observation deck with her palm planted onto its glass. The crew of the Normandy had quietly disbanded and what would’ve been the Justicar Samara’s favorite meditation spot was now empty. Garrus had caught her there, sneaking up quietly before bravely slipping his hands around her hips.

He held her and breathed her in. It had been only a few weeks since their suicide mission, but he found a comfortable intimacy with Shepard despite knowing that it could be short-lived. His hands were wandering above her navel before he murmured close to her ear. “A credit for your thoughts.”

Shepard was still looking to the stars before them and her hands overlapped with his. She had such soft palms for a skilled soldier. “Today is the anniversary.”

“Of?”

“Akuze.”

Garrus let out a weak, “Oh,” and realized that Shepard might have wanted to be left alone to her observance. Garrus released her and said in a polite manner, “I’ll leave you to it, then.” As he turned he felt Shepard’s warm hand clasp his.

“Garrus, stay. Lie down here with me.” She motioned to the cool floor and set herself in a lying position, her eyes were still looking through the glass and stars.

“Ah...okay.” He followed, the top of their heads were touching while they lay in a line beginning with her feet all the way to his feet. He felt some strands of her hair under his head and folded his hands over his stomach.

A few moments of silence followed before she started to speak. “I lost my best friend in Akuze.”

Garrus didn’t reply, listening intently.

“I observe this anniversary as much as I can. I guess I owe triple this time since I was gone the last few years."

Garrus smiled, “I don’t think she’d mind you missing out on a few years.”

“No, but,” Shepard let out a light sigh, “I don’t know exactly where I am now. In a Cerberus ship. Bringing it back to the Alliance. I don’t know how she’d feel about all this.”

“Who was she, anyways?”

“Childhood friend. Our fathers were colleagues. Great scientists. Dad was a bit of a bookworm and did a lot of work for the Alliance.”

“I suppose that’s where you got your smarts?”

“No,” Shepard laughed. “Well, maybe. But he was always pushing me, as my mother.”

“So what happened to your friend?”

“She was killed on Akuze.”

Garrus swallowed lightly. “I’m sure there’s more to that-”

“Yeah, there is. Have you ever made a silly promise, Garrus?”

His mind went to all the dares and wagers he made during his years in the turian military, and a few silly daredevil stunts in C-Sec. But Shepard seemed to be reflecting on the serious wishes of others. He looked to her, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, something that doesn’t really make any sense. A dying person’s wish.”

Garrus looked to his side before looking back up at the black sky blanketed by stars. He was trying to imagine what she was talking about, and his silence gave her license to speak further.

“She was dying. So some of the things she said, her last words, didn’t make any sense.”

“What did she say?”

“‘You’d look great as a blonde, Veronika. Maybe you should dye your hair until you get the bastards that did this to us.’”

“That was your promise?”

“Yeah, silly huh?”

Garrus shook his head, “No, it’s not. A promise is a promise, no matter the circumstances. And as far as we could tell, you’re still keeping that promise. Maybe I’ll get to see you with your natural hair color once this is all said and done.”

They were quiet again, simply looking up to the sky. Shepard reached her hand above her head. Garrus turned slightly and rolled onto his stomach. His eyes met hers. The purple hue in her eyes were dull; something he’s learned to read. She was hurting inside.

“Garrus,” she said, “I’m scared to make any more promises.”

So here she was, perhaps one of the greatest leaders of the galaxy, bowing down to the turbulent winds. She rarely showed this side of herself, and to display a weaker face. All the pressures of being Commander Shepard clearly went beyond Garrus’ understanding, although most turians were born and bred to become natural leaders. His hands went to her hair and stroked her forehead softly. She was clearly making a reference to now. It was clear to the both of them that what they’d share in the next few moments might be ripped apart by some circumstance beyond them.

“Don’t, then.” Garrus said, “I’ll make the promises from now on.”

Her purple eyes looked at him.

“Maybe this is out of character for me to say,” he was half-laughing, clearly nervous. “I’m trying to take this day by day too. But I want to promise you something, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to wait.”

Shepard sat up, as Garrus followed. They spent a few moments staring at each other before Garrus found his courage again. “I want to.”

“Wait...are you-”

“Until I see you _unblonde_ I suppose-or at least once the distance between Earth and Palaven get a little shorter.” Garrus was fumbling, “Your promise to your friend is important. I want you to keep it. But I don’t want you to struggle so much over it...so let me make a promise to you as equally tough. Balance out the scales. That kind of thing.”

She remained silent, but her hand went to the right side of his face, stroking the now-exposed scars.

He continued, “Leaving the Normandy isn’t easy. I know you want me gone, to deal with my family-”

“I don’t want you gone,” she interjected. "Palaven isn't that far from Earth...anyways."

“I know, I mean, I just...” Garrus looked down to his side. “We both have our responsibilities to take care of, and I’m glad we’re both realistic about it. But...I really want to promise you something before I leave. I want you to know...you’re constantly in my thoughts.”

Shepard’s lips parted slightly.

“Spirits, it went a little differently in my mind,” Garrus laughed nervously. “The past few nights with you...I don’t want it to end. But if you let me, I want to promise I’ll be there when you need me, in any capacity. Until you fulfill your obligations. Until the galaxy starts to see you as how I see you. Once the distance between Palaven is shorter to Earth. When I see you again. When Cerberus is dealt with, the Reapers too. _Unblonde._ ”

Shepard was clearly touched by his comment. She smiled softly at him and chided, “Then make your promise. Seal it with a kiss, Vakarian.”

He returned the smile, leaning towards her. “Gladly, ma’am.”


	20. Chapter 20

Garrus woke to the cold of the night. His covers were thrown to the side and he sat up, looking to the sleeping members of his task force. He got up with a parched throat. It could have been the immense amount of alcohol he drank a few hours prior. He looked to the side and saw that the married couple of the Tribunal had pulled their cots closer together. They lie asleep with their foreheads touching and hands clasped over the black military covers. At the furthest corner of the tent Garrus could see a mess of clothes and covers hung up to partition the space for privacy. He shook his head. It wasn’t hard to know what that was all about.

Outside the tent he was able to access the cooler and took a sip of water from his canteen, staring that the rotations of the sky. His omni-tool began to beep with an incoming message, one that was directly sent to his visor. After retrieving the visor from inside he exited the tent again, putting it on himself before the message opened.

It was Joker. The camera view was skewed. He looked to be talking to some kind of device on his collar, as all Garrus could really see was his chin. “Hey big guy,” Joker said in a hushed voice. “Just letting you know, got the stuff you sent Shepard. I can’t exactly deliver it all to her since it’d go straight to customs. I’m holding a few things for her...like that massive krogan shotgun. What were you thinking?”

The video was blurry, angles shaky, but it looked as if he was walking through some hallways. He was greeting a few officers. “Lieutenant,” one female said while casually passing by. Joker saluted and went on his way.

“Good, the brute boy’s gone.” Joker whispered. “Was able to hand her a few things in time, now delivering your...I don’t know what this is...is this a-”

He was holding some package that Garrus had placed in the gift crate a few weeks ago. It was a bunch of fabric bound together in a neat band. It was actually one of his old garments. In fact, it was his green and blue jumpsuit that he wore on their first night together.

“Okay Garrus, you’re starting to creep me out. Why are you giving her your _shirt_?” Joker was surprised. “Oh well...” He began to whistle in a rhythmic pattern, and Garrus could see that he was at the entrance of her holding room.

It was Shepard. She got up from her cell bench and approached the barrier. She looked well. Her hair no longer had its brown roots. She must have been using the coloring flat iron he packed. Garrus then realized that Joker had been smuggling gifts from his crate to her. She was still in the black and gold uniform that she wore in her last message.

“Delivery from your lover boy,” Joker said while holding out the shirt. “EDI, status?”

Shepard didn’t say anything at first. She approached Joker with her eyes shifting to the side, trying to feel out if anyone would see them. Joker held two fingers to his ears, presumably listening in to EDI. He gave a nod to Shepard and handed over the tied up garment. Shepard had the shirt in her hands and held it up to her face, smiling.

“Okay, now that’s just...” Joker commented.

Shepard looked up. “Thanks Joker, EDI.”

“Do you have anything to say to him before I, you know, get caught?”

Shepard’s eyes were still focused on Joker, as she had no clue where his spy camera was placed. She was smiling though. “Thank you.”

Suddenly the camera angle shifted into some incoherent blur. All Garrus could hear was Joker saying, “Shit! Super-pecs is back! Gotta go!” The video cut off abruptly afterwards.

Garrus was relieved. At least she was well. He smiled and lain down in his cot, his hands folded over his stomach deep in thought about all that had passed. He kept returning to memories with Shepard. He wasn’t sure what to call it, but his mind drifted to thoughts about their last few moments on Illium together the night before he left for Palaven.

For the past few days prior to Illium, Garrus had been in a frenzied lust over her. He wasn’t sure if it was pheromones, or just the timing, but Shepard was starting to smell as if she were in heat. He had read that human women had few physical indications of fertility, but Garrus could sense it in her better than she could herself. She a had an extremely sweet scent, unaided by perfumes or products. It was her natural smell, intoxicating, wanting, and it was something that drew him to her at every moment he could spare. He nuzzled against her neck, rubbing his forehead on her shoulders and cheek. Shepard already knew that this was one of the turian courting behaviors. He was trying to rub his scent on her to claim her as his during the times she “was in season”.

This behavior was different from when they first began. The night before their suicide mission on the Collector base played out differently. Garrus was painstakingly careful. He grazed over her skin, careful not to break it since she wanted to “take it slow”. It was simply a time of discovering one another with soft touches and plenty of patience. At this point he was gaining much confidence on how to kiss her, and began to learn where her personal hot spots lay. It only took a few more times before they became comfortable with one another. The only other big operation after the suicide mission was Shepard’s sudden solo mission into Batarian space. At that point most of the special task team aboard the Normandy had disbanded. But Garrus stayed by her side and became a frequent visitor to her quarters, so much that by the time she was done completing Admiral Hackett’s task he had made a habit of sleeping in her quarters instead of the gun batteries.

But something happened. She didn’t smell as strongly as she did now. Something changed in her after leaving Batarian space. Maybe it was Garrus’ growing confidence, or that she was truly in some kind of hormonal peak. Whatever it was, their time together would eventually be put to a halt and it was clear they were trying to get the most they could out of it.

They had docked on Illium and planned to stay for a night. Time on Normandy never lost its appeal, but Shepard was happy to break the habit for a more private night with him. They dressed up for a night out. He was wearing a set of black casuals, and she her classic black dress. They spent the earlier hours of the evening watching a vid at the theater, the latest Blasto installment, and browsed the shops on the merchant areas. They went to a classy upscale restaurant and because she was Commander Shepard, did not need to reserve a spot. It seemed by all accounts the most normal date they could have had, and strangely enough it was the only normal date they had.

They didn’t research any places to stay, but assumed they check into a room near the skyport. Hotel Azure was nearby, and although some of the rooms were closed due to reconstruction, Garrus had said teasingly to Shepard that he’d take her there during their mission with Liara T’Soni.

“So will you make good on your word?” Shepard asked him when she was eying the Azure’s towers.

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her to the concierge. He booked a suite under his name, a little rushed and slightly apprehensive. He was trying desperately to keep his cool, but being near Shepard meant that he had to breathe her in. His patience was wearing thin and he knew what he wanted to do. Garrus, in his haste, nearly dragged Shepard to the hotel room.

“What’s the hurry?” Shepard was giggling.

“I can’t seem...” Garrus’ breath was hitched and he pinned her against the door with his body. He began to nudge against her forehead, her neck, trying to leave his scent on her. “I don’t understand why you smell so...good. Are you...in season?”

“Even if I were, I wouldn’t know,” Shepard laughed lightly as she reached for the keycard from Garrus’ backpocket. “It’s one of our evolutionary mysteries.”

“Whatever it is, it’s driving me up the wall...” Garrus nearly growled.

Her back was at the door, but Shepard managed to slide the keycard through the sensors and the door clicked open, sending Garrus forward with her backstepping. His forehead was planted on hers, guiding her straight to the edge of the bed as the door behind them sealed shut.


	21. Chapter 21

Garrus made low growls at Shepard while he pinned her to the edge of the hotel bed. The room was clean, large, with a great view of the city below and ambient soft lights. There was an open bath at the center, although Garrus was eying the bed more than anything. She was keeping her step with him; her arms were wrapped around his shoulders as he lay her down.

“So what’s your plan for tonight, Vakarian?” she said half-teasingly.

“Take advantage of you,” he murmured into her neck. He began to nip lightly at her ear and her nape before moving to the curve of her collarbone.

She smiled. “Really now? And what if I’m just as willing?” Her hands grazed over his visor and took it off, leaving the flashing device on the bedside table.

Garrus found his hand wandering up her thigh, and lightly pressed his fingers against her. She was probably wearing that lace material again. He’d researched that it was supposed to invoke sexual attraction in humans, but it didn’t matter to him. She was damp and warm, and in human terms extremely ready.

Shepard placed her hands behind the curve of his fringe and pulled him in. She licked the crevices of his scarred cheek, rubbing her face against his in turian fashion. As she did so, his fingers began to carefully caress. He slowly descended his hand between her thighs to touch her most intimate spots. She was drenched and smelt increasingly strong. He drew back slightly to kiss her, breathing in her readiness and deepening his kiss when he began to unsheathe and press further onto her.

Shepard’s hands smoothed over his back and curved down to his hips. Her fingers began to search for his zippers and began undressing him. When they first started sleeping together, they fumbled trying to understand the various notions, buttons, and straps that went along the clothes of their respective species. Shepard had been practicing with him and was able to unclothe him in a few moments.

He slipped out of his garments, his mouth still firmly placed onto hers. It was always amazing to him how her body contrasted. Her skin was amazingly soft, like the down of a turian child, yet she had such strong muscle tone. There were certain areas of her body that were firm and others that were delicately sensitive. It would take time for Garrus to navigate and master everything, but so far he had been doing very well.

Shepard was smiling and her eyes were beginning to dilate. The black of her pupils were beginning to eclipse over her purple irises. Garrus paused for a moment to look to her. He’d learned that this was a clear sign that she was ready to mate. He hurriedly began to unzip her, but as always his hands were not meant to pull back human clothing. He always compensated by pulling the tab with the tip of his talon, but in his haste it accidentally caught onto her clothing.

The dress ripped open, and Garrus paused. Shepard could only hear his breathing as it grew deeper and he muttered, “S-sorry...” His mandibles twitched and he began to fumble around with his hands.

“It’s just a dress,” she said softly to him. It was peculiar how she spoke Cipritinese. She was fluent, but she had an accent to her speech whenever Garrus’ visor and translator were off. Her vowels were slurred, smooth. Sexy. “Rip it off me.”

Garrus was slightly surprised, but greatly encouraged. He’d learned by now that Shepard wasn’t easy to hurt. She had soft but tough skin, and his talons extended out, despite being blunted, to shred off the rest of her dress. Once he got her down to her undergarments, he continued nipping at her, catching a bit of lace into his mouth and pulling the contraptions off her.

Shepard was giggling lightly, amused and aroused by his display. She pressed her cheek against his throat, which began producing deep purrs and felt his exposed manhood against her navel. Although they took it slow the first few times they made love, they were craving one another to an insatiable degree now. Over the past few days they had been pounding the bedspread multiple times, enough that Shepard’s most delicate parts were swollen. Whether it was from anticipation or the pure strain of taking Garrus in every few hours was unknown to her.

Turians weren’t of any difference to humans in size, but it was the knotting and tying that was challenging for Shepard. He would fill up so tightly in her and could not move, as it would be painful for him to pump anymore of himself in her. It didn't help for the fact that male turians, with their promiscuous women, evolved to have fine bristles at the head that would surface during the tying. Chafing was a common injury for turian partners, but it was just an adjustment she had to make. For a few minutes he’d swell inside of her and she learned to stay still. She found it a great reason to snuggle and keep locked onto him, however.

Garrus was ready as ever now, nipping and licking her inner thigh and her shoulders. She bruised a bit but didn’t mind as her hands went to his hips. He cupped his hands to her buttocks and lifted her up slightly, and his raw angled tip lightly touched her drenched entrance. He began to move his hips softly tormenting her.

“Don’t...Garrus,” Shepard breathed in. “Stop teasing...” She was still speaking with that irresistible accent.

“Isn’t this foreplay?” he grinned devilishly at her. “To make sure I won’t tear you?”

“But I’m so...” Shepard glanced down, she could see him grazing over her. He was swollen, but not knotted yet. They were still safe. “Garrus...” She held him and began to inch upwards, trying to get him in. However he was stronger and had her pinned down by her arms, preventing her.

“Isn’t it about time that I call the shots now?” Garrus whispered into her ear. “I’m going to take advantage of you.”

Shepard was moaning, clearly wanting him to come inside her.

Garrus nipped lightly to her earlobe and continued, the tip of his manhood poking lightly at her. Her juices flowed onto him and made a sticky sound whenever their raw skin touched. He spoke deeply to her, “I won’t let you sleep tonight. I’m going to spill so much of myself in you that you’ll never forget. Everyone will know that you’re mine.”

“Gar-” Shepard was gasping his name when he shoved his whole length into her. He could feel her delicate path straining open as she tried to fit as much of him as she could. His hips began to take its natural course, pumping rhythmically into her. Shepard began moaning louder now, her voice turning into this sweet sound that Garrus craved to hear.

He could feel her wetness accumulate over the base of his shaft as he thrust powerfully into her. She began to twist and whirl while she lifted a leg over his shoulder, trying desperately to accommodate herself to him. Garrus was not sure about human women in general, but Shepard was incredibly tight to him. He supposed it was simply a human mechanism she had and enjoyed it thoroughly.

He pulled out for a moment to grab her under her shoulders and carry her off the bed. He pinned her against the wall. Despite all her outward strength, she seemed incredibly light. She bit at his mandibles, her flat teeth gnawing at their tips. It drove Garrus crazy and he thrust in her, causing her to pause in her bites so that she could cry out in carnal pleasure.

“Garrus!” She was speaking his name within deep moans. But she wasn’t calling out for him. She was clearly saying his name to encourage him further along.

Shepard was swollen from her overwhelming arousal, but far from tired. Garrus pulled from her and led her to the tub in the middle of the room, running some warm water out before pushing her into the pool. He grabbed her from behind, her soft back against his chest, and entered her.

“Oh-Spirits!” Shepard cried. It was clear that she was using the turian expression for it. He began to pound wildly into her, and felt himself go in deeper from this position. She was fantastically slippery and warm to him. His breathing was scattered and he began to feel his inner muscles twist and turn. He was forming his knot and ready to give her but one of many bursts of himself for the night.

“Ver-" Garrus grunted and called out her name as he hardened his knot. He pressed his body against hers, careful not to move an inch. Both were still save for their panting and hard breathing. Shepard reached her climax as well. He could feel her inner muscles pulse at him as if they were trying to squeeze every drop she could get out of him.

He was straining in response, spurting out a bit of liquid at every interval. He held her there, twisting her slightly to face him before he nudged her gently with his forehead. The two kept their embrace for a few minutes, silent save for their rampant breathing, until Garrus was able to release her.

A mass of turian flesh slipped out of Shepard while white liquid ran out from between her thighs. Turians had slightly larger loads, a fact that Shepard had to take into consideration. It became common for them to be in the shower, or at least be near running water when Garrus made his claim on her.

“That’s just round one,” Garrus managed to say while he ran the warm water over her slick thighs. He then caressed her face while she cupped his mandibles in her soft hands. He purred deeply at her.

Shepard smiled at Garrus. It was that sultry smile she reserved only for him.


	22. Chapter 22

Garrus blinked with his mind slowly tuning out while the moon rotated its course over Palaven. He woke again over the sound of murmurs and the roaring buzz of small airships flying above the encampment. It might have been a mere few hours after Garrus fell asleep. He saw no one nearby except for Amalie.

The small turian woman was dressed sharply in her task force uniform. She was busy strapping her boots tightly around her ankles before folding in some covers in a tight metal crate and went over to a workbench nearby to pack a few weapons.

“Had fun last night?” Garrus asked her while getting up. The woman turned halfway, her legs still planted in place. She surveyed him with her golden eyes before smirking.

“He’s a novice.”

Garrus laughed lightly. He also began packing his things away and noticed that Amalie’s usual pace began to slow. She had her crate still open and could’ve been done, but she was stalling. There was a moment she just stood still.

He looked to her. “What’s wrong?”

Amalie turned to Garrus with a half-smile. “I’m a good person, right?”

His head tilted back. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure how to begin articulating what he thought of her. Garrus had decided that he didn’t hate Amalie, but the news that she had been sleeping with Roderic wasn’t exactly what he expected. “I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at...”

“Roderic’s a good man,” Amalie said, “But he might get hurt. I think I’ve hurt a lot of good men in my life.”

Garrus was a little surprised that Amalie would show a change or heart, or at least expose herself in such a vulnerable manner. But the expression on her face seemed genuine despite the fact that she probably could manipulate people into telling her what she wanted to hear. Garrus motioned to a cot that wasn’t quite folded away and sat her down next to him. He was still in his Tribunal casuals, and he rested his elbows on his knees before shrugging. “Well, yeah, you have.”

Amalie made a frown. Her mandibles went slack.

“But hey,” Garrus said, “If it’s me you’re worried about, I’m over it.”

“Yeah, but it took you Commander Shepard to get there, right?”

Garrus shook his head. “Actually, no. I think it was just time really. I had another relationship. Although that didn’t go well, I’ve learned.”

“What? To avoid turian women?”

Garrus laughed lightly. “No. I just learned to deal with it. I was angry for awhile, but I’m not anymore. I still remember the things we did, I think about it from time to time, but it...it doesn’t hold any significance anymore. I think that’s just it.”

Amalie glanced over to him.

“Maybe that’s why you feel the way you do?” Garrus suggested. “You’ve forgotten about the people you’ve left in your wake although they still hold some sort of significance?”

Her mandibles clenched tightly in. She looked away and nodded solemnly.

Garrus shrugged. “So what do I mean to you?”

Amalie glanced out to the entrance of the tent. Some soldiers were rushing back and forth from various locations carrying equipment and shouting out orders. The world seemed oblivious of them. She drew in a deep breath. “Looking at how things turned out, maybe we could’ve-”

“Stop it.” Garrus said in light-hearted manner. “You’ll torture yourself that way. The past is the past. Besides, relationships aren’t for you.”

Amalie’s eyes darted to him. “What?”

“I mean it. You were never in it for _that_. It’s not horrible that you know what you want. It doesn’t make you a bad person for it, either. You might do things unconventionally; But with Roderic, you’ll get exactly what you want. And from what I can tell, he’d be quite happy with the results too.”

Her eyes were still, and she let out a soft smile. “Roderic and I would make a good pair, wouldn’t we?”

Garrus returned the smile and reached to pat her shoulder. “Yeah. You’d make a pretty vicious mistress. But you’d be his spine once he’s Primarch. If, that is, no one else beats him to it.”

“Thanks, Vakarian.” Amalie said. Her face lightened back to its charming demeanor. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Amalie shrugged. “Shepard?”

Garrus looked to his side, his mandibles flared out slightly. He looked to the sky and held one knee, leaning back. “I’d really like to settle down with her. We’ll need to take down the Reapers to get there, but yeah, that’d be really nice. Someplace warm and tropical.”

One of Amalie’s brow plates lifted. “You’re really in that deep?”

Garrus smiled. “Yeah. I’ve already thought of names for our kids...if she’ll have me, that is. She’d only have to say one word.”

Amalie laughed. “Wow! I didn’t think you were that committal. But I also don’t think I need to reaffirm how everyone admires Shepard, but she seems like a really wonderful person. I wish you the best with her.” Amalie held her hand out.

Garrus looked to her and nodded, taking her small hand and shaking it firmly. “And I with you-With Roderic, I mean. And, you know, becoming the next Primarch’s mistress and all.”

“Thanks again, Vakarian.” Amalie said while she stood back up. She lifted her packages and slung one of her weapons onto her back. She began to walk away with her equipment before she turned halfway to Garrus again. “You know, Vakarian, if things don’t go the way I plan I might have to start chasing you down.”

Garrus grinned, “You do know that you might have to take down Shepard if you want to get to me, right?”

She looked up in mild thought. “You know what? You’re right. Forget it. I don’t want to ever cross her. She’s definitely crazier than I am.” She smiled back and waved to him, “Thanks for the pep chat.”

“Glad we talked.” Garrus replied. He saw Amalie walk away and chuckled lightly to himself. He was sincerely happy that they spoke to let things out. Despite not speaking volumes to one another, he suddenly realized that he had understood Amalie all along. It was simply that it took time for him to learn to accept for who she really was before he came to peace with his past.

He began placing his things away but not to the extent that Amalie did. Garrus was to stay on Menae until further notice. As he began equipping himself in his armor Tertius came by to pick up a polishing cloth.

“Not going to see the trio off?” Tertius asked. “Or trying to avoid suspicion from Axius?”

Garrus laughed, “No. I’ll be there. Just in a moment.”

Tertius’ bright green eyes gazed over to Garrus, his mandibles were slack and it was clear he was reading him. “You’ve talked to Endario?”

Garrus fixed his cot and folded his arms, looking at his work before nodded towards Tertius. “Yeah. It was good.”

“Glad to hear it.”

After a brief second Garrus turned to Tertius before seating himself back down on the edge of his cot. “I’ve finally figured her out. I’m good now.”

Tertius took a seat on a cot across of him. “Really?”

“Yeah. You can’t hate her for knowing what she wants. Now whether or not Axius understands won’t matter. He’s so damn close to becoming Primarch that I doubt she’d let him go."

Tertius smiled. “Well, he’s the only one near her age, minus Lieutenant Victus.”

Garrus tilted his head back in thought, “Yeah...why do you think she didn’t consider Tarquin Victus?”

“He’s not exactly mature.” Tertius replied, “In the military, I mean. He hasn’t lived up to his father yet. On the other hand, Axius is doing exactly what is expected of him. He’s an exemplary soldier and has been racking up the medals since he shed his down. He might’ve not seen that much battle, but he’s a strategic genius. Did you know that he was on Taetrus with General Adrien Victus? He was the one who came up the plan to draw back.”

“Oh?”

Tertius smiled, “He might not look it, but deep inside he’s just as clever and cunning as Endario. The two are an excellent match.”

“We’ll have an extremely safe Palaven if Axius succeeds the Primarch.” Garrus commented.

“Exactly. And we’d have an extremely safe galaxy once you’re with Shepard.”

Garrus cocked his head at the statement.

“Providing that we defeat the Reapers,” Tertius continued. “You’re stronger together. You’re both fantastic as you are, but together you’re better.”

“What makes you say that?”

Tertius laughed. “Once Palaven’s burning we’ll all look to you for leadership. Sure, we’d look to the Primarch too, but on the field we all know that our loyalty will go to the one with the guns. Judging at the way you two survive the impossible-countless times-you’ll both have the biggest guns around.”

Garrus looked to Tertius, who was smiling at him.

“You’re an asset to our species. As Shepard is to hers. You both have the foresight we need and I’m damn sure that the galaxy will be a better place if you two stay together.”

A smile cross Garrus’ face; his mandibles shifted out. Tertius patted Garrus’ knee before he got up. Tertius left quietly as Garrus took in his last few moments alone. He stared out to the sky, and Menae had shifted its orbit completely to the black blanket of stars.

Somewhere out there he was hoping that Shepard was thinking the same across the distance from Palaven.


End file.
